A Time to Remember

“Then you think she’s going to regain her memory? All of it?” Relief flooded him. One by one he loosened his fisted fingers. “When?”

“That’s not up to me, I’m afraid.” Luc’s rueful face gave away his feelings. “But God has a plan, buddy. A good one. And He knows what He’s doing. Leave it up to Him. Rest in His care.”

Gray didn’t want to wait for anything. He was sick of the uncertainty, sick of waiting for the next disaster, afraid to learn what waited around the next corner. If he could, he’d gather Marissa up in his arms, find Cody and take both of them back to the safety he could provide at the ranch. Unfortunately, hiding wouldn’t help either of them right now. Marissa needed medical care and Cody needed both of them.

“Did you hear me?” Luc asked.

“Yeah, I heard,” was all he could manage to say.

He stared at Marissa’s still form and wondered if they’d ever regain the life they’d shared, if she’d ever look at him the way she once had. He didn’t deserve it, not after what he’d said. But deep inside, away from the cynicism and anger, hope floated in a little round bubble.

Maybe, just maybe he hadn’t lost everything he loved.

“And Gray?”

“Yeah?” It hurt to look at her and know she felt nothing for him. Gray wheeled around, faced the doctor. “What is it?”

“Cody needs to see her. He needs to touch her and know she’s fine. Then I want him to see a psychologist.”

“Where?” How in the world could he nurse an amnesiac wife, protect his little boy and run a ranch?

“Right here, today. Dr. Scallion is here for his weekly appointments. God evidently knew we’d need the guy, so He had him change his scheduled day in town from yesterday to today. And he’s got lots of time to see Cody.”

“You’re the doctor.”

“Yes, I am. Don’t forget it.” Luc’s voice toughened to the gruff but tender tones Gray had heard him use on obstreperous patients. “Don’t tell me God hasn’t protected those two, Gray McGonigle. I doubt if you’ll ever know just how tenderly He cared for them when you couldn’t.”

The door creaked shut behind him.

Gray walked back to the bed, stared at Marissa’s bruised, battered face, and blood-covered hair, scratched arms. He recalled Cody’s tortured look each time he tried to fall asleep. He remembered his own long days, and even longer nights when he’d stuffed his face in his pillow to stop from sobbing his heart out at their loss.

What kind of tender care was that? What kind of God did that?

Ten thousand times he’d asked the question, ten thousand times he’d come up blank. God, or at least what he knew of God, was supposed to be love. He was supposed to tenderly care for those who followed Him. Marissa wasn’t perfect, but she sure didn’t deserve to be kidnapped by some crazy person. He, on the other hand, probably deserved everything God had sent him, and then some. But why not punish him directly?

He directed his arguments heavenward, but there was no response and his frustration and impotence at the situation burgeoned.

Some time later the door creaked open and Cody peeked around the corner. Gray held out a hand, drew him into the room, smiling at the cookie crumbs on Cody’s lips.

“I was just coming to get you. What have you been eating?”

Cody brought the little white box out from behind his back. He pointed to the delicate red script flowing across one corner. “Blessing Bakery—made with love.”

A creation from Miss Winifred. Gray might have guessed. He smiled at the older woman, motioned her to come inside.

“We had breakfast quite a while ago, then Cody saw a nice doctor. After that we went for lunch. I had Furley bring him over a little treat.” Miss Winifred glanced at the bed, smiled, then looked at him. “I don’t think you realize how long you’ve been in here, Gray. It’s almost two o’clock.”

He glanced at his watch, saw that she was right.

“I apologize, Miss Win. I’ve held you up from work. You’ve been wonderful to look after Cody like this, but he can stay with me now. Marissa woke up once when I first came in, but she’s been asleep ever since. They tell me that’s perfectly normal. That her body needs rest.”

“Yes, Luc told me, as well.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right, dear?”

“I’m fine.” That was a lie. He was anything but fine. Still, no sense in upsetting Miss Winifred. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about their situation.

He glanced up, caught her brushing away a tear.

“Did Luc tell you she has amnesia? That she can’t remember anything?”

Miss Blessing nodded.

“Yes, he told me. But she’s alive, Gray. And she’s going to get better. You can thank the Lord for that.”

“Can I?” Bitterness ate at his insides. Cody pressed against his knee and Gray lifted him up, held on to the little boy and tried to tamp down his anger. “Can I also thank Him for allowing my wife to get her skull bashed in? Can I thank Him for taking my son’s voice, for giving me months of unending misery when I didn’t know if they were dead or alive? Can I really thank Him for all that, Miss Winifred?”

As soon as it was said, Gray wished he’d kept his mouth shut. But Winifred Blessing wasn’t abashed by his anger. She didn’t even flinch. Instead her quiet voice rolled over him like salve on a burn, soothing, easing away some of the sting as it cooled and refreshed.

“Yes, you can do all of that, son. You can rant and rave about the injustice of life till your cows come home.” Her eyes sparkling, she lifted her head and dared him to debate her on this. “Or you can get down on your knees and give thanks that God in His wonderful plan decided to give you and your family more time together, that He entrusted them to you for a little longer.”

“You don’t understand,” he muttered, lowering his voice as he became aware that Cody had homed in on the tension between them and didn’t understand. “I made God a promise that if He gave me a son and never let him go through the pain I experienced in my childhood, that I’d be the best possible father I could be.”

“And?”

She was staring at him as if he’d lost his marbles. Gray bristled, all his fears and worries massing together into one swell of raw irritation.

“What do you mean, and? I did the very best I could. I tried to be the kind of father I never had so that my son wouldn’t go through what I did.”

“Yes?” She looked like an inquisitive sparrow, head tilted to one side.

Gray stared at Marissa, the anger deflating like a pricked balloon. “He didn’t keep His side of the deal,” he muttered.

“I see. So you made a deal with God.”

“Yes.”

“You set the terms, you decided how it would be fulfilled and now you’ve judged that God reneged. Is that about the gist of it?”

Put her way, it sounded a bit silly. But the meaning was there.

“Yes,” he said, unable to stem his defiance.

“Uh-huh.” Miss Blessing stared at him for a long time. Then she shook her head, lifted the white box from Cody’s hands and held it out in front of his nose.

“You’ve got the wrong end of the stick in this relationship, Gray. And the sad thing is, you don’t even know it. I’d like to stay here and hammer out who’s who in your master of the universe game, but I’ve got to get to work. Furley is not as young as she used to be. In the meantime, chew on this.”

She stuffed the box into his free hand, then turned and whirled through the door, charging off to cure the world. No doubt she’d unload the whole story on her assistant, Furley Bowes, and the two would confirm Miss Blessing’s opinion that Gray McGonigle was an idiot.

Which was probably no less than he deserved.

Gray glanced down at Cody. “You okay?”

Cody’s trusting eyes met his solemnly. He nodded. He glanced toward the door.

“I know. She was pretty ticked at me. But she doesn’t understand.”

Cody frowned, glanced at his mother, then at his father. Finally he took the box from Gray, lifted the lid and held it up so his father could look inside.

A giant heart-shaped cookie rested against a square of paper. Familiar red script across the cookie held his gaze.

Cody poked him, as if to say, “Well?”

Gray brushed his lips over his son’s now-shiny hair, and sighed.

“Miss Winifred Blessing always has to have the last word, doesn’t she?”

Cody grinned, reached out and pinched the V off the bottom of the heart. He popped it into his mouth, then lifted the cookie and held it toward his father. Gray nodded, read the message again.

“She sure knows where to hit a guy.”

Cody giggled. The sound was like music to Gray’s ears. Maybe Miss Win really did have a direct line to heaven for these messages. This one sure needed no explanation.

There is a God. You are not Him.

Chapter Four

“Okay, all your test results are in and everything seems fine. But just because I release you, it doesn’t mean you’re one hundred percent yet.” Dr. Lucas Lawrence pretended to glare at Marissa. “I want you to take it easy, relax and enjoy being at home with Gray and Cody for a while. No lifting, no straining. No housework!”

She’d been here a week—long enough to heal most of her cuts and bruises. She was ready to leave the hospital with its bland food and weird hours. She was especially delighted by the thought that no one would wake her up to take a pill that put her to sleep.

But to go home? With two people she didn’t know?

Marissa gulped, pretended to smile, watching as the doctor moved toward the door.

“No housework. Wow. That sounds pretty good.”

“Consider it a reprieve. Knowing you and your penchant for organization, and remembering that Gray has been baching for almost six months, you should be grateful.” He waved as he went out the door. “See you in a few days, Marissa.”

A reprieve? More like throwing her to the wolves. The doubts multiplied a thousandfold. Marissa suddenly realized she had no idea what her home looked like, let alone how much cleaning it normally required.

And she had no wish to be there alone with Gray.

She knew no one would understand what she meant. They’d assume she was afraid of him. And she was. But it wasn’t the ordinary kind of fear. Not the kind she felt when she woke from those awful dreams about the river. This was a different kind of fear, as if she might say or do the wrong thing and hurt him, erase that silvery glow in his eyes. Something drew her to him. It was as if she must somehow protect him, but she didn’t understand that. Protect Gray from what, or whom—herself?

The past week had proven that the man who called himself her husband loved his son. The boy looked completely different. He had new clothes, for one thing. His hair had been cut, too. Not just hacked off, which was how it had looked the first time she’d seen him, but trimmed by an expert hand. But the most important thing was the way he giggled and laughed, ran and jumped, just like every other kid.

The only thing he didn’t do was speak.

He’d often hug Gray’s side, or lean his head against his leg when he was tired of waiting. Then his dad would scoop him up in his arms and the boy would snuggle down as if he belonged there.

Which he did.

It was Marissa who didn’t seem to belong.

Oh, it was easy enough to bond with Cody. The boy was adorable, and every time he brushed his chubby lips against her cheek, or hugged her, or snuggled beside her in the hospital bed, some inner spring wound a little tighter inside Marissa. She knew she was his mother, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’d do anything to keep him from danger.

But when the nightmares came and ripped her fantasy world to shreds, when she had to face the fact that she might never remember his first steps, his first words, the first time he fell asleep in her arms—at those times she desperately wanted Gray McGonigle to be there for her, wanted his big strong arms around her, wanted to hear him say everything would be all right, just as he did with Cody.

Yet she pushed him away.

She had to.

To allow him to believe she felt something for him was to court disaster. Something had happened before her accident. Marissa knew it. She’d asked him, but Gray wouldn’t tell her about that last day, wouldn’t say much more than that they’d been happy. He was hiding something from her, and she longed to know what it was. Maybe then she’d be able to explain her turbulent emotions whenever he was near.

The truth was, she didn’t know what she felt for Grayson McGonigle.

Gratitude? Indebtedness? Obligation? Curiosity?

All of the above.

His world must have been turned upside down when his family disappeared. But in the days since she’d awoken here, he hadn’t once complained about his twice-daily trips into town to visit her, nor about her memory’s lack of progress. He’d mentioned nothing about the extra help she understood he’d had to hire to help out with the chores while he took Cody to the city for tests. Even now, he didn’t miss a beat about Luc’s suggestion that they’d need home help because she was useless to him.

“I spoke to Miss Blessing about what Luc said. She knows a woman who moved back to town a while ago, after her daughter and grandson died. She has one other son, but he doesn’t live with her. Anyway, apparently this Mrs. Biddle used to work for my father a long time ago, so she’s used to the ranch, and she loves kids.” Gray turned toward Marissa. “Does she sound all right to you?” he asked politely.

That he’d even bothered to ask was a mark of his consideration.

“She sounds fine.” She edged toward the side of the bed, pushing back the pain that pinched her body. “Whatever you decide is fine.”

She could see he didn’t like her saying that. His eyes narrowed, his brows lowered. He looked frustrated.

“I’m sorry, Gray. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just that you should decide these things. After all, they have the most effect on you.” She’d been trying to rectify whatever she’d said wrong, but was clearly only making matters worse. His jutting jaw was proof of that. She bit her lip, decided to stay silent.

“This affects you, too, Marissa. We can do whatever you want, but for now, I agree with Luc. You need rest and lots of it. A puff of air could whisk you away without even trying.”

“I’m fine.”

She glanced down, noticed his eyes staring at her knobby knees poking out from the hem of her hospital gown and readjusted the thin cotton robe.

“Why didn’t you put on your own robe and gown? I brought them days ago, but you still wear the hospital’s. Did I bring the wrong things?” Gray stared down at the threadbare gown as if he couldn’t understand her preference for such an ugly thing.

Well, why would he? He’d brought her an azure-blue velvet housecoat that begged to be worn, and a delicate white cotton nightie, with ribbon ties that matched the housecoat. They were beautiful and she’d have loved to snuggle into them. But they weren’t hers. At least, they didn’t feel like hers.

“I seem to have a lot of scrapes and cuts,” she improvised. “I didn’t want to stain anything, so I thought I’d save them until I was a bit more healed.” She glanced behind him. “Where’s Cody?”

“He’s at school. I thought it was time to get him used to the routine. I’ve been taking him for an hour every morning. Today he’s staying the full time.”

“Oh.” Which meant they’d be going to the ranch alone.

“You don’t think it was a good idea?” He fiddled with his hat. “Maybe it is too much at once, but the doctors thought we should get his life as normal as possible, and…”

Now she had him second-guessing himself, something she doubted he’d ever done. Till now. On an impulse, Marissa laid a hand on his arm.

“Please, whatever you’ve decided is fine. I know you only want what’s best for him.”

“And you.” He put his hand over hers where it rested against his muscled forearm. “I just want to make things better, Rissa. Inside, I know I can’t. I know nothing will be the same again, but I have to do something. Otherwise I’ll blow up.” His fingers tightened, the lines around his eyes deepened. “Every time I think of someone holding you against your will, of hitting you—”

She heard the torment in his voice, saw him strive for control. Then his arms were around her and he was holding her so tightly, she could barely breathe.

“Rissa, if you only knew how scared I’ve been.”

The words seemed dragged from him. It was the first time he’d really held her, though she’d expected it before now. There was no doubt in her mind that he cared about Cody but her, too? This much? Somehow that surprised her.

Something inside urged her to hold him, to brush that lock of recalcitrant hair off his forehead and kiss him there. But something else—some warning bell—reminded her that wanting to comfort him wouldn’t be what he wanted from her. He was her husband, he’d expect—no! She pulled away.

“You don’t have to be afraid. I’m all right. So is Cody. He’ll talk to us when he’s ready.” She leaned back, putting a bigger distance between them. “I guess I’d better get dressed.”

“I didn’t know you’d be released today. I didn’t bring you any clothes.” He frowned at her, trying, she knew, to understand what made her so apprehensive she couldn’t respond to him.

“I’ll wear what I arrived in.” She was pleased she’d thought of it so easily, until she saw him shake his head. “Why not?”

“The police have your things. Evidence. They’ve sent them away for analysis. Maybe they can find some clue about where you were held.” His gaze moved down her body, focused on her feet. “Seems funny you weren’t wearing shoes. Your feet weren’t cut or blistered, as they should have been if you were running barefoot.”

“Just another little mystery for you to unravel,” she joked, drawing her toes under the hem of her gown.

He was discomfited for a moment, then his gaze landed on the rejected housecoat. “I could go and buy something.”

“No, there’s no need.” She didn’t want to be indebted to him further. Neither did she want to put off going to the ranch. It terrified her, but she had to do it or explain why not. It was better to arrive in the daytime, and it was already after lunch. If they waited any longer, it would be time to pick up Cody, and when she finally arrived home, Marissa didn’t want the child watching her with those studious silver eyes that saw everything.

Home. How strange to think of it like that.

“I guess this is the only option, then.” He held out the housecoat and gown.

“I guess you’re right.” She clambered awkwardly off the bed, took the items from him and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He nodded, but that curious lambent glow was back.

It wasn’t the first time Marissa had been out of bed, nor the first time she’d seen a reflection of herself. But she still didn’t feel she knew the stranger who stared back at her, so she tried to avoid looking that way.

Earlier her bandages had been removed. The nurse had helped Marissa wash her hair and now it hung loose and fluffy around her shoulders. Her scalp was tender, so she’d left the golden strands free.

The nightie had a soft fuzzy feel on the inside. Some kind of cotton sateen, she decided, sliding her hand over her midriff. The housecoat felt every bit as wonderful as it looked. Out of the shabby hospital gear, sheathed in this elegant finery, Marissa felt pretty. Graceful. Like someone else. Had she worn these things before?

“Rissa?”

A soft knock on the door alerted her to her husband’s presence outside.

“Yes?” She froze, then told herself he had every right to walk inside if he wanted.

“Are you all right?”

She drew in a breath for courage, then pulled open the door.

“I’m fine. I was just trying to decide what to do about my feet.”

“Good thing I happened along, then.”

They both turned at the laughing voice. A man stood in the doorway. A tall man, sandy haired, with dancing brown eyes, looking for all the world as if he’d just stepped out of an ad for healthy outdoor living. He waited in the doorway, a gaily wrapped package in his hands. He wore jeans and a plaid shirt, but they were nothing like Gray’s. There was no sign he’d ever done a day’s work in either article. His snakeskin boots shone with a luster that proclaimed them new.

“Hi, sis.”

Sis? This was her brother? Marissa scrutinized each feature, but found nothing familiar. Gradually she became aware of the tension sizzling across the room between the men. She glanced at Gray for an explanation.

“Marissa, this is my brother. Adam.” The words were devoid of any emotion.

“Oh, come now, Grayson. Let’s tell all the truth, shall we?” The debonair smile turned on her full force. “Everyone thinks I’m his half brother. The ne’er-do-well son who got gypped out of the ranch my father built with his bare hands.” Malice glittered in Adam’s eyes.

“I didn’t gyp anyone.” Gray grated the words out in a way that told her they’d gone over the same argument a hundred times before. “Harris left me the ranch, true. But you were well provided for, Adam. You could have bought your own place. If you’d wanted to.” An implicit warning lay behind those quiet words.

“The point is, dear Marissa, that Grayson McGonigle, or whatever his real name is, shouldn’t have received any portion of my father’s inheritance because he is not my father’s son. He’s a liar and a cheat.”

His real name? Marissa winced at the pure hate that seemed to thread through the angry accusations. She saw Gray’s hands fist, saw his jaw clench and knew it was up to her to stop this from escalating, damaged memory notwithstanding.

“Look, I don’t pretend to understand what you’re talking about, Adam. I don’t understand anything about my life. My head hurts, my body is stiff and sore and I feel like I’m in the middle of a tug-of-war. So if you don’t mind, you two can carry on your feud, or whatever it is, later. Preferably when neither Cody nor I are present.”

“Aw, Marissa, I’m sorry.” Adam’s mobile face drooped with shame. “I truly didn’t mean to dredge that up again. I came to say I’m so sorry about the accident. How are you?”

“I’ll be fine,” she told him, praying she was telling the truth.

“I know that. You always had a knack for making things turn out good.” He walked over, leaned down and brushed a kiss against her forehead. “This is for you.”

She accepted the gift, surprised and pleased by his tender smile.

“Thank you, Adam. Though you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“By the look of those toes, I did,” he teased, peering down at her ankles and bare feet. “Wherever you’ve been, you managed to get a bit of sun. At least on your feet.”

In unison she and Gray stared at her feet. Compared to the rest of her fair skin, her ankles and feet were tanned a light golden brown. Why was that?

She felt Gray’s scrutiny. A wave of embarrassment washed over her at the intimate look. She busied herself opening the gift. A pair of slippers, fuzzy white ones with delicate little heels, lay against blue tissue paper.

She giggled at the silliness of them. Adam chuckled.

“I knew you’d like them.”

“Surely you didn’t find these in Blessing?” She laughed.

The silence unnerved her.

“What did I say?” she whispered. Both men stared at her with an intensity that made her fidget. “What’s wrong?”

“You know where you live?” Gray asked carefully. “You remember the town?”

“No.” She shook her head.

“Then how did you know that no place in town would carry these?”

Then she understood. Blessing. The town where they lived. She tried to figure out how she knew that, but nothing made sense.

“I don’t know where it came from,” she whispered, frustrated by the elusiveness of her mind. “It just came out.”

“It’s okay, honey.” Gray squeezed her shoulder. “It’s great, really. It means things are starting to come back. The doctors all said not to force it, so let’s not worry about that anymore. Why don’t you try these on?” He lifted a slipper from the box, carefully cradled her left foot and slipped the ridiculous footwear on it, then repeated the procedure with her other foot.