Her Honor-bound Lawman

“Do you ever feel as if you might remember? As if your last name and where you’re from are teetering right on the edge of your consciousness?”

“Sometimes. Especially when I’m with the twins at the day-care center. That’s what’s so confusing. I know I can’t be a mother, but maybe I was a nanny. Maybe I watched over children in my job. Everything about taking care of them comes so naturally.”

Again he studied her. “Emma, I want you to think about something. Sometimes amnesia has a physical cause and sometimes it doesn’t.”

“You’ve mentioned that before.”

“Your tests all came back clean and I want you to consider something. Sometimes amnesia around a trauma is self-induced. It’s a possibility that you had a life you don’t want to remember.”

Emma’s dismay must have shown on her face.

“I’m not saying that’s the actuality,” he went on, “but it’s something to think about.”

“I do want to remember, doctor.”

His expression was kind. “You think you do, but your subconscious might think otherwise. Still, the fact that you’re having any flashbacks is positive. I’d rather you waited to try hypnosis at least another month or two. I know how frustrating this must be, but you must be patient. It truly is better if you remember on your own.”

“But what if I never remember? I need to have a life, and I can’t have a life without a Social Security number!” When she said it, she realized how preposterous that sounded. But in a way it was true. She couldn’t work without one. She didn’t even know if she could take a driving test without one.

“I’m sure you fall under some kind of special circumstances and that can be remedied if the amnesia lasts.”

“I don’t want to owe other people, doctor. First Aunt Gertie took me in, now Tucker. It’s embarrassing sometimes.”

“Something tells me, Emma, that you were a very independent woman, whoever you were before this bump on the head. I’ll tell you what. Give it one more month. If you don’t have any significant flashbacks, if nothing has changed, I’ll contact a psychologist I know who’s trained in hypnotherapy. Fair enough?”

Another month under Tucker’s roof…unless she remembered on her own, unless he found another lead to her identity. But there was really nothing else she could do right now. “All right, another month. But then I see a hypnotherapist.”

When Emma appeared in the waiting room, Tucker saw she was frowning, and after she went to the receptionist’s window and spoke with her, she looked upset. But there was a couple sitting in the waiting room now and he wanted to talk to her in private. She took her coat from the rack with a determined yank and didn’t wait for Tucker to help her with it. Then she was out the door and down the walk toward the truck before he zipped his jacket.

He caught up with her before she opened her door. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s just hunky-dory. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know where I should live. I don’t even know my birth date. And on top of all that, Dr. Weisensale suggested again that maybe I don’t want to remember any of that. If I don’t want to remember my past, doesn’t that make you wonder what kind of past I have?”

“I’m sure your past is very respectable.” Tucker tried to be soothing.

“Respectable? I don’t feel as if my present is respectable. Aunt Gertie took me in. Now you’ve taken me in. And Dr. Weisensale told his receptionist there was no charge for today. He thinks I’m a charity case. I’m not, Tucker. I want to get a job. I want to work. I want to—” She bit her lower lip, and he could see her chin quiver.

Clasping her by the shoulders, he gazed into her beautiful green eyes that were shiny with tears. “I know this is frustrating for you. I wish I could do more to help.”

“I don’t want you to do more to help. I want to help myself. I asked about hypnotism, but Dr. Weisensale wants me to give it another month. A month, Tucker.”

“Is staying with me so bad?” he teased, thinking about her spending another month under his roof…in the bedroom beside his.

She let out a breath with a sigh and then gave him a weak smile. “No, of course not.”

He wanted to pull her into his arms and protect her. He wanted to set his lips on hers and taste her again. But instead, he lifted her chin with his thumb. “I think you need some perspective, time out of the house to enjoy yourself. Why don’t we go to the diner for a quick supper, then catch a movie?”

“A movie?”

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I went to a movie theater. And I know you can’t, either,” he said with a grin.

She looked startled for a moment, and then she laughed. “You’re right about that. All right, Sheriff Malone, you’re on. The blue-plate special and a movie. That should give me exactly the perspective I need.”

Her eyes were sparkling now, and her lips turned up in the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Quickly he released her, then opened the door for her. When she climbed inside, he shut it, wondering what in the hell he’d just gotten himself into.

As usual, Vern’s Diner was bustling with a full capacity crowd. Tucker and Emma stood inside for a moment, searching for an empty table or booth. From a few feet away, Tucker felt glances on them.

A woman leaned over to the man who was with her and asked him, “Isn’t that the woman who doesn’t know who she is?”

Tucker could tell that Emma had overheard the comment, too. A shadow passed over her face, and he moved closer to her. “Maybe we should go to Chez Stork up the street. It would be quieter.”

Chez Stork wasn’t only quieter, but a lot more expensive and very elite. There was an aura of intimacy there that Tucker would rather avoid. But he didn’t want Emma to feel uncomfortable.

Emma gazed up at him, her green eyes serious. “Would you rather leave? Just because I’m the talk of the town doesn’t mean you should be.”

“Talk doesn’t bother me.”

Emma nodded to a booth that had just been vacated. “Then let’s get that table before somebody else does.”

Tucker had never met a woman quite like Emma. She was feminine in every sense of the word and yet there was a strength in her that he had to admire. She was so different from Denise. But he put that thought out of his head as they walked toward the booth.

Almost there, Tucker spotted Ben Crowe, his wife Gwen and the nine-year-old boy they were going to adopt, Nathan.

Emma stopped and smiled at Gwen. “Hi, there. How are you feeling?”

“Very big. But I guess that’s to be expected at this stage,” the pretty blonde said with a laugh.

Ben addressed Emma and Tucker. “Coming out to eat was the only way I could get her to stop unpacking boxes.”

Ben and Gwen had lived in her cottage since their wedding two weeks ago and now were moving into Ben’s ranch house. Ever since Nathan had gotten into some trouble with older boys last month, Tucker and Ben had become more friendly.

“Do you need any help moving?” Tucker asked.

Ben shook his head. “Thanks for asking, but we finished up today. Now if I can just convince my wife that she has to take it easy until she has this baby…”

“I’m going to have a brother or sister,” Nathan proudly informed them. “Ben’s going to adopt both of us.”

Ben ruffled Nathan’s hair. “I sure am. And we’d better get going if you want to put the finishing touches on that science project.”

Tucker tipped his hat to them. “Take care. And Gwen, if you need a proper escort to the hospital, just give a yell.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said with a grin.

After Tucker and Emma settled into the booth, Emma leaned toward him and whispered, “We’re giving a shower for Gwen at the day-care center on Monday evening.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”

Leaning back again, she said, “It was nice of you to offer to help them move.”

Tucker shrugged and picked up the menu, but he could feel Emma’s eyes on him. “What?” he asked when he looked up and she didn’t avert her gaze.

“What do you do for fun?” she asked.

“In my spare time I work on the house—outside work in the summer, inside in the winter. I’m going to drywall the basement, maybe get some exercise equipment.”

“I didn’t ask how you fill your spare time. What do you do for fun?”

“Isn’t fun enjoyment? I enjoy working on the house.”

She shook her head in exasperation. “Fun doesn’t have a goal. It’s just something that makes you laugh and relaxes you and has no purpose except to make you feel good.”

He thought about it for a few moments. “I play poker once a month with some of the guys from the department.”

She waited, but when he didn’t add anything else, she asked, “That’s it?”

“Entertainment’s a little limited in Storkville.”

“But Omaha’s less than an hour away. Do you date?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“That’s none of your business, Emma.” He didn’t want to get into that…not with her. A man dated for two reasons—to get his needs met or in the hopes that the dating would progress into something more. He wouldn’t use a woman simply to meet a physical need, and he didn’t want anything more.

Emma looked hurt by his blunt reply and leaned back against the booth, opening her menu.

An awkward silence fell over them and it lasted throughout supper. Emma commented on the good taste of the fried chicken. Tucker mentioned that the diner had great coconut cream pie. But neither of them ordered dessert. At the cash register Tucker paid their bill and after he received his change, Emma said, “We don’t have to go to the movies, if you have something else you’d rather do.”

He didn’t have something else he’d rather do. That was the hell of it. He liked being with her. “A movie will be good for us both. What do you want to see? The theater here only has two screens, so we don’t have much of a choice.” Tucker mentioned the names of the two movies. One was full of gunfire and bombs, the other was purported to be a romantic comedy. They chose the romantic comedy.

But once inside the theater, Tucker felt as if he’d miscalculated on a lot of fronts. Only about ten people sat in the whole place, and there was an intimacy in the theater that might not have existed in a packed house. Tucker guided Emma to two seats in the middle of the center row. If they were going to have the place practically to themselves, they might as well pick the best vantage point.

Emma folded her coat on the seat next to her, and Tucker did the same with his jacket and hat. When they sank onto the cushioned seats, their arms brushed and they both moved away. Tucker sincerely hoped he could get engrossed in the movie so he’d forget about the woman beside him.

But forgetting didn’t come easy, not when her perfume wafted toward him on a cold draft, not when she looked so delicate and exciting outlined in the shadows. He tried to concentrate on the characters on the screen and their dialogue, but he glanced at Emma often and felt a strange longing to hold her hand. What a ridiculous notion for a thirty-seven-year-old man who’d sown wild oats, gotten married, divorced and sworn off relationships!

His long legs didn’t quite have enough room and after a while, he shifted. But his trouser leg brushed Emma’s skirt, and the charge that jolted through him could have lit up all of Storkville. The few people in the audience laughed from time to time but Tucker was too distracted to let clever quips sink in. And when the couple on the screen had their first prolonged kiss, his shifting had nothing to do with his long legs.

The movie seemed never-ending. Finally the music swelled and the couple on the screen jet-setted into the sunset. Tucker breathed a sigh of relief. But when he looked over at Emma, he saw she was brushing a tear away.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I love happy endings.”

“It’s a shame they’re not true to life,” he murmured.

“You don’t believe love conquers all?” Her eyes were wide with innocent curiosity.

“No. I believe we survive the best we can.”

“Tucker!” she scolded. “Life is about more than surviving.” A certainty in her soft voice enfolded his heart.

The lights went on in the theater and Tucker saw Emma’s belief shining in her eyes. What would it be like not to have a past, to have a slate as clean as a field of fresh snow? Would Emma change when she remembered who she’d been? Or would she still have an ideal notion of the way the world should be?

Rather than responding, he stood, set his hat on his head and shrugged on his jacket. Before she could protest, he lifted her coat and held it for her. With a murmured thanks, she slipped into it. His fingers lingered on her collar under her hair. Such soft, silky hair. He could imagine it spread across his pillow—

With a mental oath, he pushed up his seat and crossed the aisle.

They walked to Tucker’s truck in silence. At the passenger door, Emma looked up at the sky. It was a velvet black, sprinkled with hundreds of stars. A crisp wind blew her hair across her cheek. Tucker resisted the urge to gently finger it, to brush it away, and he opened her door.

Once he was seated beside her in the truck, he didn’t start the engine. Unlike the sheriff’s SUV with the bucket seats, his truck had bench seats and Emma was less than six inches away. “Emma, in the restaurant, I didn’t mean to be so…”

“Blunt?” she filled in. “That’s okay, Tucker. You’re right. Your life isn’t any of my business. It’s just hard for me to remember that when we’re living under the same roof and when you know every…detail about me.”

The way she said it, he knew she had something specific in mind and he could guess what it was. “Does it bother you that I know you’re a virgin?”

“No…yes…I don’t know,” she murmured as if she was embarrassed by discussing it. “I think it makes you look at me in a certain way, and that makes you think I need your protection.”

“Someone protected you before me, Emma. The doctor says he thinks you’re in your early twenties. It’s rare nowadays for girls to be virgins past high school graduation.” He shifted to face her more squarely. “I know you belong to someone.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know anything of the sort, and neither do I. Sometimes in the middle of the night, I think about where I came from, and you know what I’ve decided?”

“What?”

“That maybe I was a princess kept hostage in a high tower and somehow I escaped and ran to Storkville, and now here I am.”

In the glow of the parking lot lights, he could see her smile. Nothing in the world could keep him from brushing her hair away from her cheek, from leaning closer. “I wish I could believe in your version,” he said, his voice husky.

“Believe it, Tucker.” She raised her chin slightly and although he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t keep his lips from meeting hers.

Even though she’d told herself she wasn’t expecting another kiss, and she shouldn’t even want another kiss, she waited for Tucker and let the heat of his lips engulf her. There was so much heat in him, so much passion that swept through her as his tongue stroked hers.

Yet as easily as he’d bent to her, he abruptly pulled away. She wondered why…if he still thought another kiss was a mistake, until she became aware of voices and saw a couple approaching the truck on the driver’s side. Tucker’s lawman instincts must have alerted him.

As the couple passed Tucker’s window, Emma recognized them. They had been sitting a few rows in front of her and Tucker inside the movie theater. The girl’s hair was thick, auburn and straight, drifting down her back. It blew in the wind. Suddenly Emma’s head started to pound. A pain lanced through her right temple, and she brought her hand up to it reflexively.

“Emma? What’s wrong?”

She heard the murmur of Tucker’s voice, yet not his words. She was lost somewhere, somewhere black that turned to gray and then a picture. She was brushing auburn hair and braiding it. The pain in her temple became worse and she saw herself tying a small blue bow on the end of the braid. Just as quickly as the vision had come, it vanished, and Emma felt breathless and shaken.

Tucker was clasping her arm now. “Emma, tell me what’s happening.”

“I saw…I saw something.”

“That couple who passed by?”

“The woman…she…her hair—” She knew she wasn’t making any sense and she tried to think past the throbbing in her head. “I got a headache and then, and then I was brushing someone’s hair and braiding it. It was auburn, just like that girl’s.”

Tucker reached up to Emma’s temples and massaged gently. “Did you see anything else?”

“A blue ribbon. I was tying a blue ribbon on the braid.”

Tucker’s voice remained steady and calm. “Can you see yourself? How old you are?”

“It’s gone, Tucker. I can’t see anything now.”

His fingers were comforting and sensual and although her head still pounded, the pain was diminishing.

“See if you can get it back again.”

She tried. She tried to see it once more. But she couldn’t, and she shook her head.

Yet he kept probing. “How old were you?” he asked again.

“I…I don’t know.”

“Could you tell how old the girl was? Was she a child, a teenager?”

“Tucker, I don’t know,” she responded, frustrated now. “I could only see her hair…my fingers on her braid…and the ribbon.”

“Okay,” he murmured, pulling her close to him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “Try to relax. If you let your thoughts scatter, maybe it will come back.”

She knew what he was thinking, that she was trying too hard to remember, that the harder she tried, the less she’d see. He was probably right. But her heart was still pounding, and her head hurt, and he felt so good and safe and strong as she leaned into him.

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