I’m stuck in a small town with the Queen of Christmas and no idea who I am or how to get home, Finn thought darkly. Right now I got a pretty low bar for “better off.”
Chapter Five
Amelia had just enough time after her visit with Lizzie to look in on poor Ben Stillwater and say a prayer for the still-unconscious young man. It reminded her that there were worse problems than questionable weddings. And speaking of worse problems, one look at Finn’s face outside Dr. Searle’s office told Amelia that clearly she hadn’t had the worst afternoon of the day. The frustrated knot of Finn’s eyebrows made him look years older than when she’d dropped him off before Lizzie’s.
“That bad?” she asked.
“He made me do eye exercises that made me sick and dizzy. He told me I’m a ‘fall risk’ and to be patient and stay off the internet.” Finn growled and headed straight for the door. “What’s wrong with me that I can’t sit in a chair and move my eyes without falling over?”
She hurried to keep up with his long strides. “You had a serious knock to your head, Finn. A concussion and all. That’s going to take time to heal. You are going to have to be patient.”
Finn gave her a look that displayed how little patience he had.
She was almost afraid to ask, “Any breakthroughs?”
“He showed me the list of missing-persons reports from the sheriff’s office to see if any of the names felt familiar.”
It didn’t take Lucy’s skills to guess the answer. “Nothing rang a bell?”
“I could be any of those people and not know it. I’m useless to find even my own name on a list.” He furrowed one hand in his thick brown hair as if he could squeeze the answers out with his fingers.
Amelia knew stress wasn’t helpful in his situation, but she had no idea how to calm Finn down. “Well, he did say none of the missing-persons reports matched your description, so isn’t it possible your name wasn’t on that list?”
He stopped walking to glare at her. “Yes. No one is out there looking for me. I’ve dropped off the face of the earth and no one has even noticed. You can imagine how comforting that is.”
Amelia had spent the better part of last year wanting to disappear. Here was a man who actually had, and he was twelve times more miserable than she’d ever been. There’s a lesson in that, Lord. Thank You. But help me help him. “I can imagine how lonely that must be. I’m glad you’re staying with us and not going through this by yourself. I’m glad to help you, however I can.”
“There isn’t anything you can do, Amelia.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and resumed walking toward the car. “There isn’t a solution for this.”
She grabbed his jutting elbow, stopping him again. “That’s because the solution for this is time. You just need to hang on until the first bits of memory come back—and they will.”
His eyes were so sad. “How do you know they will?”
She didn’t, of course, but she refused to believe he’d be living under the weight of a blank slate forever. “I just do. My intuition is legendary, you know.”
He didn’t exactly roll his eyes, but his face was far from confident. Hopeless was a better word, and it jabbed into her chest.
“You didn’t die out there in the woods. You’re alive and healing. I just came from visiting a young man named Ben Stillwater in that same medical center. He fell from his horse and is in a coma, not walking around like you are. You’ve a lot to be thankful for, Finn, and maybe you’d be better off focusing on all you have instead of parts you’ve lost.” She hadn’t planned a lecture, but someone had to shake him out of this harmful dark funk. “Why, Gramps would give his eye teeth to have your strength. Even Bug is jealous of how you can walk up the stairs.”
That almost made him laugh. “Your dog is jealous of me?”
“Haven’t you seen him standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up toward your room? He used to love to sleep in the sun in that room, and now he can’t make it up there. I’ve seen him watch you when you go up. He’s jealous.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but at least now it was more in puzzlement than anger. “And this is supposed to make me feel better?”
“I admit, it’s not a tidal wave of encouragement, but...”
He shook his head. “You amaze me. No one else would ever come up with a fat dog’s envy as a source of encouragement.”
“Bug is not fat.”
Finn gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look.
“Okay, maybe Bug could stand to shed a few pounds.”
That incredulous look only deepened. If he was in law enforcement, he had the intimidating eyes for it.
“Maybe more than a few. Look, you know what I’m trying to say here. Count your blessings—that’s all you can do in a situation like this.” She sighed, her own frustration getting the better of her. “With a sister like Lizzie, it’s all either of us can do.”
“Things not go well with your sister today?”
Amelia spilled the whole story of Lizzie’s wedding theme. The weight of having to be her ever-helpful self lifted as she watched his reaction. At least someone else found Lizzie’s ideas quirky if not downright odd. He balked at the ringmaster-coat idea, and she was glad for both their sakes of his genuine laugh at her worries that Lizzie might rent an elephant.
“See,” she said as she unlocked the car, “the best antidote for your own troubles is to help someone else with theirs.”
He eased himself into the car with a wince; his ribs evidently still hurt him. “I haven’t done a thing to help you with any of that.”
“Yes, you have. You listened. And you laughed, so I know I’m not the only one who thinks this whole thing is crazy.”
“Anyone with any sense at all would laugh at that crazy idea.”
She pointed a teasing finger at him. “Don’t you dare say that in front of Lizzie.”
“Sure, boss, whatever you say.”
Before she put the car in gear, she gave Finn a direct look. “Am I right, do you feel better? Even the tiniest bit?”
His boyish grin was all too charming. “Sort of.”
“Well, you look less like Scrooge than you did ten minutes ago. That’s got to count for something.” The tension had eased in his shoulders, and most of his scowl was gone. Stealing a glance while she pulled the car out of the parking lot, Amelia wondered what Finn would look like happy. He was a handsome sort even down-and-out—all that dark glossy hair and those stunning blue eyes made brooding a good look on his features. Well and happy, she didn’t doubt he’d be a heart-slayer. Based on what she’d already seen, if Finn revived confidence, he’d command a room.
If they could retrieve one tiny detail. The article she’d read said taste, smell and music had some of the most powerful abilities to reawaken brain functions. People who couldn’t manage speech could often sing. Alzheimer’s patients who couldn’t recall their spouses could remember how to play instruments. The trouble was, most of the tastes and scents and sounds around them now were about Christmas, and that was as much of a hindrance as a help for Finn. They’d already used a gift card provided by the hospital to get Finn some basics like a few changes of clothes and soap. There must be something on her to-do list that Finn could help her accomplish.
“We’re going to the candy store. Is that okay?”
“Candy?”
“I have to buy candy to fill the stockings for the League Christmas party. I want the good stuff, not just anything from the supermarket. Can you help?” He looked a bit tired, but she didn’t think sitting at home with Gramps watching game shows was going to do him any good, either.
“Is this another of your ‘let’s find things you like’ experiments?”
She chose his earlier response. “Sort of. I mean, you might. But I really do need to get this done and I really could use the help.”
“Don’t you have to get home to Luther?”
She liked that he had taken to Gramps. They were good for each ot
her in a way she couldn’t quite yet explain. “We’ll be home by suppertime easily. And quite frankly, if I have to tell Gramps his granddaughter is planning a circus wedding, I want some of his favorite butterscotch to soften the blow. And I always give a big basket of candy to Lucy and the sheriff’s office every Christmas, so we can take care of that, too.” She hesitated a moment before asking, “Do you still feel like maybe you are in some kind of law-enforcement field?”
Finn settled back in his seat. “As much as I know anything. Only it doesn’t help much. Texas could have thousands of law-enforcement officers my age and height. Police, private security, Rangers, FBI—without a name there’s no good way to search.”
“Can’t they run Finn?”
“Dr. Searle had someone try. It’s unusual enough that it would pop, but nothing. We both think it’s a nickname, but that’s no help, either.”
“Something will come back to you. Or we’ll find some detail that leads us to another. You’ve got to keep your hope strong.”
“And you think butterscotch is the key to that?” He managed a small smile at that, and she was glad for it.
“Well, no, but I don’t see how it could hurt.”
* * *
“What kind of a fool scheme is that?” Luther waved the serving spoon in the air so hard at dinner that night that Finn fought the urge to duck away from airborne mashed potatoes. Amelia had elected to wait until dinner to reveal Lizzie’s crazy wedding plans, which Finn thought as good a strategy as any.
He wasn’t sure it worked. Luther’s reaction to the circus theme was just about as stunned as Finn’s own response. Amelia had laid it out in even greater detail than she had to him. A regrettable choice, he thought—it only got worse with the elaboration.
“My granddaughter’s getting married at a circus?” Luther balked.
“A circus-themed wedding. There’s a difference.” Amelia was trying to champion Lizzie’s absurd idea, but if Finn could see right through Amelia’s forced support, surely Luther could, as well.
“Not how I see it.” Luther snorted. Finn sent Amelia a “hang in there” look. “Why on earth didn’t you stop her?”
“She couldn’t choose a color scheme to save her life. Somehow when I said the word circus, it all just clicked for her.” Finn watched Amelia run a fork through her potatoes, the air of a doomed woman coming through her false smile. “Believe me, it wasn’t my intent to suggest an actual circus at all. She latched on to the idea, and evidently Boone loves it. Lizzie wants it to be memorable.”
“She’ll get her wish,” Finn offered, “but I don’t think it will turn out the way she wants.”
“It won’t be so awful.” Amelia’s voice pitched up in such a way that no one in the room—probably not even Bug—believed that to be true.
“Darlin’—” Luther leaned in “—you’d best rein that girl in something fierce or no Klondike in the county will be able to hold their head up for years.” His words were heavy but Finn had to give the old man credit; there was still a teasing twinkle in his eyes. Finn guessed he’d grouse and balk but end up standing behind his granddaughter no matter what she chose.
“Gramps, we are the only Klondikes in the county.”
“All the more reason to uphold the family name.”
There was a pause in conversation while everyone tried to get their minds around the impending drama. Finn felt ungraciously glad to be a temporary guest of the family. Lizzie planned to be married in the spring. He ought to be long gone to his regular life by then, misfiring brain cells or not.
“We may never live it down.” Resignation dropped Luther’s words to a sigh.
A storm of gray swept over Amelia’s eyes. “Well, Gramps, it’s not like Klondikes and weddings have a stellar track record.”
Whatever that remark meant, it stopped any further conversation cold, leaving Finn to make a mental note to investigate further. The look that passed between Amelia and Luther told him there was a story behind that comment, and it wasn’t a happy one. What could possibly put so big a dent in Amelia Klondike’s unshakable optimism?
He found his chance to ask while he and Amelia did the dishes after supper. Luther snoozed in the den under his usual pretense of watching the television news. It was a quiet time in the house Finn especially enjoyed—the day settling down peacefully instead of the creeping grip of night he half-remembered from life before his accident.
“What was that all about?” he said as he dried off a pot, keeping his tone light and casual.
“What?” Amelia plunged her hands into the sudsy sink.
“The Klondike wedding track record.”
Her shoulders fell. “Oh, that.” The sad tone confirmed Finn’s theory that she was only talking about the wedding track record of one particular Klondike—her.
He suddenly felt bad about bringing up the subject. “Hey, you don’t owe me any explanations.”
She pushed out a breath, sending a little flurry of bubbles into the air. “It’s no secret. Everybody knows.”
“I don’t. Tell me.”
She ran a finger in small circles through the suds. “His name was Rafe Douglas. He was—still is—a Ranger down by San Antonio. We would have been married by now, but I broke off the engagement a month before our wedding.”
The regret in her words was such a contrast with the optimistic Amelia Klondike he was coming to admire. “What happened?”
“Work always came first with Rafe. I thought I knew that—the missed dinners, the constant phone calls, that sort of thing. He was on the fast track, dedicated, rising up through the ranks. People looked at him like he was a hero—the whole ‘one riot, one Ranger’ package—and he was.” Finn felt his throat tighten. The phrase ‘one riot, one Ranger’ was an old Texas story about how it only took one Ranger to quell a whole riot—he knew that. But did everybody know that? The words buzzed at him with an unnamed importance that he stashed away to think about later.
Amelia dunked a saucepan into the suds as if she were drowning the memory. “I tried to feel proud of him rather than neglected. I did, mostly. But when he asked me if it would be okay to postpone the honeymoon for a big case that would earn his promotion, I wasn’t as gracious as I should have been.”
Gracious? The idea stabbed Finn in the gut. What kind of man does that to his bride?
Amelia began attacking the saucepan with a soapy sponge. “Gramps threw us an engagement party five weeks before the wedding, and Rafe was dreadfully late—so late he never showed. Some crisis on the force kept him in Austin.” She stopped scrubbing, holding the pot up and watching the suds slide off it. Her eyes were on the saucepan, but her memory was at the party. After a pause, she passed the pot under the faucet, watching the suds slide off the shiny surface and swirl down the drain. “By the end of the party I realized the badge would always come before me, and my life would become one long wait for him to come home.” She looked up at Finn as she handed him the rinsed pot, and her eyes were such wide blue pools of unhappy resignation that the sight pushed against his ribs. “Rafe was one of the last people to know I’d called off the wedding when he showed up four hours after the party ended.”
Finn took the pot from her hands, lost for an adequate response. It explained the pity he had picked up on earlier. How anyone could cast Amelia Klondike off as a social charity case was beyond him. She was no old-timey spinster—she was still young and as vivid a beauty as he’d ever seen. An irrational part of him wanted to find this Rafe idiot and knock some sense into him, but he couldn’t say where the strong emotion came from.
“It was all anyone could talk about for weeks.” She flicked the soapsuds off her hands as if banishing the memory. “I became that cheerful cast-off everyone asks to lunch to be nice. I threw myself into helping other people because that seemed a better choice than crying over something I couldn’t change.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
The faint echo of a smile turne
d up one side of her pink lips. “You and me both. I loved him. And he loved me...just...not quite enough.”
Chapter Six
One riot, one man. It kept drumming through Finn’s head while he tried to sleep. He heard the clock downstairs chime two in the morning—another Christmas carol, for crying out loud. He’d been staring at the ceiling for at least four different carols. Sleep hadn’t come easy since his accident. When he did sleep, he often woke with the sense that his dreams were a tangled mess, even though he never remembered what they were. The continual unknowing and weariness was starting to get to him.
One riot, one man. Anyone even halfway familiar with Texas Ranger history could know that phrase, yet Finn had the sure impression that it was more to him. More what? And why?
His pulse began to do that pounding thing it did when he let the memory loss get to him. A baseless, focusless anxiety from which it was getting harder and harder to talk himself down. Doc Searle was right about one thing—it was bad to be alone when his situation swarmed around him like this. Finn sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side, putting his hand over his heart in a desperate attempt to will it calm. He felt the pounding beat under the cotton plaid of Amelia’s gift pajamas.
It came to him right then. A sensation, rather than a visual, but clear and sharp as if someone had just pulled a curtain aside from a sunny window. He remembered the feel of his hand touching the metal circle of a badge. It came back to him in remarkable clarity—the engravings on the star, the way each point of the star met the metal circle around it, the feel of his shirt beneath the badge.
A Ranger badge. His Ranger badge. I am a Ranger. Or at least I was. The fact that he couldn’t tell if he still was meant something—only he couldn’t quite figure out what. If he wasn’t, there was a big reason why he wasn’t. He could feel the weight of the fact wrap around the memory like a blindfold, hiding any further information from his sight.
I am a Texas Ranger. It was the most certain thing he knew in days, as powerful as the sense that he disliked Christmas. The revelation shot him out of bed to pace the room, unsure of what to do with the new knowledge. I am a Texas Ranger. I have that badge. Finn stopped in the middle of the room, hands over his eyes, trying to pull a visual from the murk of his memory. He knew—somehow—that there was information on that badge if he could just see it. Finn squinted his eyes, nearly grunting with the effort, only to be rewarded with blank gray. Frustration knotted his gut and only the hour kept him from shouting, or throwing something, or anything to rage against this infuriating blank wall that always seemed to be at his back.
A Ranger for the Holidays (Lone Star Cowboy League) Page 5
