by Lori Leger
She resisted then. “But, I want to see this place. I want to see what you’ve done with it.”
He paused a moment, gave her a nod. “All right, I’ll take you on a tour to show you what you’ve done with the place. Keep in mind it was a typical messy bachelor’s pad until you put your magic into it.” He scooped her easily into his arms, ignoring her claims of being too heavy for him. “I haul two to three fifty pound sacks of feed at one time all day long. This is a pleasure for me.”
She looped her arms around his neck, forgetting her self-consciousness once she got lost in their surroundings. She adored the living and dining areas with their authentic touches of Cajun culture, but the bedrooms astounded her. He took her upstairs first, to the two smaller bedrooms, both slope-ceilinged and decorated in a style she could only describe as country chic. Both were the perfect blend of style and utility, as was the shared bathroom located between the two.
Her stomach churned nervously as he headed down the first floor hall to what she suspected was the master bedroom. He pushed the door open and her gasp immediately filled the room.
“Oh. My. Goodness…”
“Nice, huh?”
“Where did you find this furniture?”
He took several steps inside the room and turned slowly, giving her the full three-sixty-degree view. “You mean where did you find it? You told me you found it online. The first time you stepped inside this room, you said it required something special. You did some research on furnishing French-Acadian style homes, and found a company that specializes in furniture from that era. You narrowed down some styles and we chose one we could both agree with. So, how’d we do?”
Cat felt the heat rising from the base of her neck to the tips of her ears, knew her face was flushed with a mixture of excitement and emotional distress. “The entire house is beautiful, but this room—this space…” The four-poster bed, the perfect cross of feminine beauty and sturdy construction, began to float in her vision as tears clouded her eyes.
“I must have done everything you said, because it’s so absolutely perfect and pleasing to my tastes, my eyes, but…” Cat bit her lip to suppress a sob. “I can’t remember doing it, Zach. None of it—and it’s breaking my heart.” She buried her face in his neck and sobbed quietly.
He settled them both in the chaise in front of the window and held her until she could control her sobbing.
She finally looked up, sniffling and wiping at her tears. “Dammit all, I feel so stupid, breaking down like a big ole baby. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Seriously?” His blue eyes pinned hers. “It’s called a head injury. You think you could give yourself the tiniest of breaks?”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her free hand and sniffed again. “It’s difficult seeing all of this…stuff…I accomplished. I see my handiwork all over the place; books I’ve written, accessories I’ve acquired, pieces of furniture I know I must have agonized over, but I…just…I don’t remember doing any of it. This is all so scary crazy to me.”
She dared to meet his gaze at that point, noticed the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The one he always got when he was holding off some comeback, ready to jump into the conversation to add something vital. “Spit it out, Zach.”
The tug turned into a full-blown, single-dimpled grin. “I know something that may make you feel better. Want to hear it?”
“Absolutely.”
“You are starting to remember some things, but you don’t realize it.”
She frowned at him. “What makes you say that?”
He thought for a moment. “Do you remember asking me what happened in the accident? I told you we were hit by a Hummer.”
“Yes, I remember asking you that.”
He nodded, continuing with his explanation. “This morning when we nearly collided with that bed you said something about looking out for anything resembling a giant bumble bee. I never mentioned the color of the Hummer to you, Cat, but it was bright yellow with lots of black trim. The damn thing did look like a giant bumble bee.”
“You must have mentioned that at some point.”
“I swear I didn’t. Inside the truck, just before it hit us, I was looking past you and saw the Hummer coming. You were showing me the printer cartridges you’d purchased for me. You turned your head to see what I was looking at a fraction of a second before that thing plowed into us.”
She stared at him, shaking her head, refusing to give in to the slim chance of hope. “I don’t remember that.”
“It doesn’t matter. Your subconscious does, and that’s a good sign.” He twirled a lock of her hair around one finger and grinned. “There’s something else, too.”
“What?”
“Zeus.”
“Your dog?” She looked around. “Speaking of which, where is he? And you need to bring in Chableu.”
“Zeus is outside, and I’ll get the cat soon, but how’d you know my dog’s name? I’ve only had him about nine months.”
She opened and closed her mouth several times before finally staring at him. “I have no idea. All you said was that you had a dog, a big dog. But I know he’s a big, dumb dog, and his name is Zeus.”
“Hey, Zeus is not dumb. He’s goofy as all hell, because he’s still a puppy. He hasn’t grown into his ‘man-self’ yet.” He grinned at her. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do, Zach, and I guess you’re right about the subconscious, but damn, it feels even stranger to know something, but not to know how I know.” She gazed up at him. “You know?” As strange as the situation was, she couldn’t keep the smile from her face.
Zach couldn’t suppress his snort of laughter as the woman he loved gave him the most bewildered, befuddled, but adorable smile he’d ever seen on her beautiful face. The fact that it happened without him having to force it out of her gave him even greater joy.
If he’d only been satisfied with that joy and left it at that, chances are the night would have been fine. Dumbass that he was, he couldn’t leave it alone. Before his mind could warn him, his mouth was on hers in a crushing kiss.
At first she didn’t move. Shock caused temporary immobility, he’d realize later—much later, after she’d pulled away from him and gave him a slap that put the “P” in Pain.
The ringing in his ear, almost as annoying as the sting from her slap, kept him from hearing her demand. It wasn’t until she’d repeated herself that he fully understood.
“I want to go home.” She rose from the chaise, took a step back and stood there, weaving slightly on her feet, one hand on her stomach.
“This is your home.”
She shook her head, chewing nervously on her thumbnail. “No, it isn’t. Not yet.”
“Cathryn—” He stopped short when she began to ring her hands.
“Oh God…” One hand flew to her head as the other went to her stomach. “I’m…I’m gonna be sick!”
He jumped up, helped her to the bathroom they would eventually share—he hoped. “Can I help?”
“Close the door!” she moaned before crouching over the toilet.
He pulled it closed, sat on the bed until he heard the tap in the sink turn on. He went to the door and knocked. “You okay, Cat?” He waited until she opened it and looked up at him sheepishly.
“I’m sorry for slapping you. It just—you surprised me—I wasn’t expecting…” She stopped, and took a deep breath. “Don’t do that again.”
He gave her one nod. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”
“I still want to go home.”
“And I still say this is your home.” Her glare had him defending his words. “You’ve known me for nearly two decades, Cat. You’ve got to know by now that I would never do anything to hurt you.”
“I know that.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “I need to rest, Zach. My head is killing me.”
“Lay down, babe. Here…” He pulled the thick comforter back and fluffed the pillow for her. �
��Sit.” He kneeled in front of her, removing her shoes, and helped her into the bed. “I want you to know, you’re the first to sleep in this thing. I’ve been sleeping on the couch until I can share it with you.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder when she tried to rise. “No you don’t, stay right where you are.”
“But I could sleep on the couch.”
“It’d be too crowded. Now go to sleep.”
“Damn you’re bossy.”
He grinned down at her before giving her a shake of his head. “Well, hell. If that ain’t the little ole pot, calling the kettle black, I don’t know what is.”
He chuckled as he headed for the door, all the while, shaking his head. “You’re killing me, Cat. You’re killing me.” He left the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind him.
Chapter 8
You’re killing me, Cat.
Cat’s eyes flew open at the four words floating around in her head.
You’re killing me.
Had someone spoken them to her in a dream? If so, in what context had they spoken them? Her eyelids drifted closed again as she stretched in the comfortable bed. When her hand brushed the pillow next to her, she pulled it close. She cradled her arms around it, crushing it until it released its delicious scent in the air. Zach. It smelled like Zach. He must sleep with this pillow on the sofa. She buried her face deeper into the pillow trying to breathe it in.
Tom Ford. Extreme.
She jerked her face away from the pillow. How did she know that? Christian wore Ralph Lauren. Always. No matter what anyone gave him as a gift, he’d return it and come home with Ralph Lauren. Good cologne. Just not on him.
So, how the hell did she know this was Tom Ford? Had she bought it as a gift for someone? She tried to relax. Let the memory come to her. Mall of Acadiana, in Lafayette. She gasped, as the memory developed. She and Zach were together and he had tried the tester. He’d bought it because of her reaction to it.
What reaction?
She closed her eyes, trying to replay the scene in her head until it came to her in complete detail. She slapped her hand over her mouth to cover the groan. She’d wanted to tear his clothes off right in the store and she’d begged him not to wear it until the wedding. Her eyes flew open. He wore it for her, hoping to jog her memory.
She sat up slowly, studying the massive four-poster bed and the rest of the room’s furniture. Nothing. She still didn’t remember picking it out. No memories of planning any wedding other than to Chris.
Somewhere in the house, she heard the chirp of a cell phone. A quick glance at the nightstand told her it was 8:15. Another glance at the windows told her it was p.m. not a.m. She’d slept at least four hours.
Damn drugs.
Where was her phone, anyway? She remembered pictures, asking someone to take pictures, but of who, of what? Frustrated and annoyed, she was relieved when Zach finally answered his chirping phone. She heard him talking, soon after he knocked at the bedroom door and opened it.
“Cat, we need to get to the hospital. Kellie’s baby is coming!”
Cat pushed through the door into the waiting room, followed by Zach. She saw her mother sitting next to Dr. Barton, holding his hand. “Mom!”
They locked gazes the exact instant the strongest feeling of déjà vu came over her, so stout it weakened her knees.
Zach caught her before she hit the floor. “Hold on, babe! What’s wrong?”
“Cathryn!” Ellen rushed to her daughter.
Cat held up a hand as a distinct memory came to her. She’d done this before—with a pregnant Kellie, and Zach by her side. “I’m okay.” She couldn’t say why she didn’t want to admit it right away, maybe to keep the pressure off.
“I just need to sit down. How’s Kellie?”
She knew from the pinched, worried look on her mother’s face that the news wasn’t good. She also knew her mom was trying to keep it from her, to protect her somehow.
Zach helped her to the couch across from her mother. “What happened?”
Doctor Barton finally spoke when her mom couldn’t seem to form the words. “She started hemorrhaging and they took her into surgery. It was mild, though. I don’t see any reason to worry.”
Cat stared at her mother, but only saw herself through her eyes for an instant, knowing she must look like she was about to lose it. She was. As a matter of fact, Cat was so damn close to losing it she wanted to scream out. Her head felt so funny and fuzzy. In contrast, memories began to take shape, sharpen, becoming crystal-clear. Earlier memories of the exact moment she knew Chris hadn’t been the man for her. And more recent memories, when she realized that Zach was—had always been. Everything came flooding back to her in a rush—nearly as quickly as the pain.
“Ahhh—Jesus!” Cat cried out, clamping both hands to her head. She felt herself falling forward, heard Zach’s voice as he caught her in his strong arms. Just for a second, she saw his face appear before her. Her Zach—so handsome, even in his obvious state of terror.
He’d always been her Zach. She wanted to tell him that she knew it now. She remembered. Wanted to do or say something to remove the worry and panic from his striking eyes, his handsome, tanned face framed by coal black hair. She wanted to, but she couldn’t find those words, or any words, for that matter. She couldn’t speak. As her eyelids fluttered and closed, the very last thing she heard was Zach calling her name, and her mother’s screams.
The medical terminology clamored for attention in his brain, like cranky customers at an overcrowded Wal-Mart on Black Friday. Cerebral aneurysm, localized dilation, endovascular coil embolization, and catheters—to phrases and words he could understand, but hoped would never become relevant, such as leakage, rupture, stroke, and death—to those he hoped would be relevant, such as repaired and miracle.
A miracle she’s alive.
Zach crouched over Cat’s hand, holding it, stroking it, while listening to a conversation spoken in hushed tones. The three speakers, Ms. Ellen, Doctor Barton, and Doctor Collins, the neurosurgeon, who had successfully repaired Cat’s aneurysm, stood on the opposite side of her bed.
This was her second miracle, her second chance at cheating death in less than a week. If every cat truly had nine lives, his Cat had used up two of hers already. He’d do his damnedest to make sure she kept the other seven safe and sound.
“Zachary, do you have any questions for the doctor?”
He glanced up at Ms. Ellen, then Dr. Collins. “How long before she wakes up enough to stay awake?” She’d been in and out since coming back into the room, murmuring some things no one could understand, and then falling asleep again.
“She should be starting to come out of it pretty good in another hour or so. She’ll be groggy for the next several hours. Some patients are extremely sensitive to the anesthesia.” He placed a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. When I asked her some questions in recovery, she answered them all correctly.”
“What’d you ask her?”
“The usual—her name, birthday and year, her mom’s name, how many siblings she had, how many fingers was I holding up—that sort of thing. She has good muscle control, good reflexes. All signs she’ll make a full recovery. We caught the aneurysm before it ruptured, which I find absolutely amazing, since she’s been walking around with it steadily ballooning for God knows how long.”
Zach’s gaze zeroed in on the doctor. “You mean since the accident, don’t you?”
Dr. Collins shook his head. “Considering the location, I have serious doubts the accident caused the aneurysm. Of course, we can never be sure exactly why or when they occur, but it’s still amazing that we caught it before it had a chance to do any real damage.”
“It’s amazing, all right.” Zach crouched over Cat’s hand again to place soft kisses upon the delicate fingertips as one thought repeated itself like a marquee in his mind.
Does she remember us?
Too bad he couldn’t have asked the questions i
n recovery. If she’d been on the verge of remembering, would this set her back? He wouldn’t know a damn thing until she woke up.
A soft touch to his shoulder had him looking into his mother-in-law’s face—an exhausted face, judging from the shadows and circles under her eyes. She had reason to be. In twelve hours, she’d made the round-trip between the Jennings hospital, where Kellie delivered her baby, and here in Lake Coburn to see Cathryn, at least three times.
“I keep forgetting to give this to you, Zach.” She handed him a large, white-handled, plastic bag bearing the Jennings hospital logo in bright blue lettering. “It’s some of the things recovered from the wreck. I’m not sure how, but somehow, in all the commotion, it ended up with me.” She hugged him then. “I’ll leave you alone with her for a while. I want yours to be the first face she sees when she wakes up.”
Zach pulled out the yellow envelope with her name on it. He peered inside, reached for the smaller envelope containing the rings he’d bought for her, along with his own matching wedding band. He’d slipped his inside the envelope with hers when she wasn’t looking. If she couldn’t remember them being engaged, no way in hell would he tell her they’d already tied the knot. He slipped the envelope in his pocket, just in case he’d need it later, and then examined the rest of the items in the plastic bag. He opened the business type envelope, holding his breath as he pulled out the folded marriage license, signed, sealed, and now delivered safely back into his possession. At the back of his mind, he had always known he could get a copy of it at any time, but a copy wasn’t the original. He breathed a sigh of relief as he refolded, and tucked it safely back in the bag.
He dug around and found her small shoulder bag that she called an organizer. It always amazed him that she could manage to fit so freaking much into one tiny purse. He pulled out her wireless phone; saw the single, long crack along the faceplate. Considering what it had gone through, it could have been so much worse. He hit the power button, satisfied to see the wireless company’s logo appear for several seconds before it beeped twice and disappeared. Other than the battery being dead, he suspected it was perfectly fine. He placed it in her purse, pulled out a tri-folded piece of paper that caught on his roughened knuckles. Zach unfolded the paper carefully, gazing at the handwritten words through eyes suddenly wet with tears. The contract—the agreement he’d written, in the hope that she’d agree to marry him. He had recited it to her on Easter Sunday just before giving her the engagement ring.
