Son of Texas

She would face the light and the fears inside her. It was long overdue. Someone had put a bullet in her head and left her on the streets of Austin to die. Who had caused her all this misery? And who had hated her that much? No matter how hard it would be, Caleb would help her find the truth. It was time to stop being afraid and embrace her life—whatever it had been.

She knew she was a good person and made friends easily. Caroline Coltrane, the wife of Eli, the ranger who’d rescued her, was a very good friend, and her sister, Grace, was, too. They met for lunch every now and then and Belle enjoyed their company and their friendship. She wondered what type of friends she had in her old life. Belle was beginning to drive herself crazy with all the wondering, so she went in search of Ms. Gertie. After all, she did have a job. Some days that was hard to remember because Ms. Gertie tended to pamper her. But she wasn’t an invalid and she’d made that plain from the start.

She found Gertie in the pool, floating and relaxing. Harry paddled around entertaining her. Prissy and Prudy lay on the tiled floor watching, but not daring to get in the water. The pool and the hot tub were enclosed, so Gertie swam daily year-round.

“Do you need me to do anything, Ms. Gertie?” she asked.

Instead of responding, she answered with a question. “Did you have a nice visit with Caleb?”

“Yes.” She sat in a pool chair and Prissy jumped onto her lap. She stroked the cat for a moment, listening to her purr. “I wasn’t aware you’d called him to be our escort for tomorrow night.”

“If I’d told you, you would have said not to bother him. But it’s unseemly for a woman to attend functions without a male escort.” She paused, splashing water on Harry. “And I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Belle shifted uncomfortably. “Ms. Gertie, you know I can’t get involved with anyone. I don’t know who I am and that would be so unfair to Caleb.”

“Oh, Belle, darlin’. That doesn’t keep the heart from getting involved.”

She knew that all too well. But now that she knew her name, her feelings would change. Wouldn’t they? That’s what she’d learned in her sessions. Though her feelings for Caleb seemed strong now, once her memory fully returned those emotions would lose their strength. Her feelings for Caleb were based on her fears and insecurities. He was her security blanket.

In her mind, she recognized the logic of that. In her heart she wasn’t so sure. Caleb, with his kind and gentle ways, was a part of her. She knew his smile, that crooked grin and the way his brows knitted together when he was deep in thought. But most of all she knew his voice—that deep soothing tone that had brought her so much comfort. And his touch. For so long she jumped if anyone touched her.

Slowly and surely Caleb’s gentle touch had shown her that not all people were bad. Caleb was good to the core and she couldn’t imagine loving anyone the way she loved him. But that was her private secret. She had no right to love Caleb or to give him hope that one day there could be a future for them. Until she regained her memory, she had no future.

But now she had a name. In a few hours Caleb might be able to tell her where she was from, if she had a family, a husband. The thought ran through her with anticipation and dread. Once she found that out, Caleb would become a part of her past and she wasn’t ready to let go—not of Caleb.

She was smart enough to realize that everything Dr. Oliver had cautioned her about was true. Her attachment to Caleb was hindering her memory recall. She had to let go and allow herself to remember. She wasn’t in love with Caleb, she only thought she was. How many times would she have to say that to herself before she believed it?

“Belle, grab Harry. He’s getting tired.” Ms. Gertie’s voice penetrated her thoughts and she jumped up, Prissy growling at the interruption of her sleep. Belle grabbed a towel and gathered Harry into her arms, drying him thoroughly.

When she put him down, she knew exactly what he was going to do. He shook his whole body, splattering her with remnants of water.

“Harry,” she scolded, but laughed at his anguished expression. She picked him up and rubbed him again until he was panting with delight.

“I better get out. I have a dozen phone calls to make.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Belle asked again.

“Yes. Make sure Martha has that canary locked in the dining room. I don’t want the girls having a feast of him tonight.”

“The girls never leave your bed.” Gertie called the cats her girls and she treated them as such, too.

“Oh, but temptation is sometimes too great.” Gertie stepped out and wrapped a towel around herself. “Think about that, Belle. Sometimes it’s good to give in to temptation.”

“Ms. Gertie.” She was shocked.

“I’m not talking about the girls. I’m talking about Caleb.”

“Ms. Gertie!” She was even more shocked.

“I’m going to change, then I’ll be in my study.” She walked off, not saying another word, the animals marching behind her.

Belle went to check on the canary, trying to ignore the message behind Gertie’s words. She knew how Belle felt about Caleb. Everybody probably did, but Caleb. And she never wanted him to know. It would only complicate things.

CALEB SPENT THE AFTERNOON searching for every piece of information he could on Joscelyn Marie Beckett. Before long, he knew a lot about her. She was born in Corpus Christi, Texas to Brett and Marie Beckett. She attended school in Corpus and went on to Texas A&M at Corpus and eventually became a police officer. A police officer! That threw him and angered him. How could a police officer disappear without anyone knowing? But it would explain her strength and courage.

He forced himself to continue. Later, she was on the police force in Beckett, Texas. Caleb had heard of the town, but looked it up on the map to get the exact location. South Texas—between Corpus Christi and Laredo.

None of this was making sense. She was a police officer and no one had reported her missing. And no one had answered the ads asking for information about her that were plastered in all the big newspapers. Why?

A little more checking and he discovered she’d never been married. That was a relief for now, but Belle had a whole life out there that didn’t include him. He shoved the thought aside. Her parents were dead, killed in an auto accident and she had a grandfather who lived in Beckett. Even Caleb had heard of Boone Beckett and the Silver Spur Ranch. Cattle and oil wells made Boone a formidable figure in Texas, especially when it came to politics. His backing could almost guarantee a win.

So why hadn’t a man like Beckett searched for his granddaughter? There were so many unanswered questions and he knew the only way to find the answers was to go to Beckett, Texas.

First, he had to talk to Belle. It wasn’t going to be easy to explain that her parents were dead. Or that her grandfather hadn’t cared enough to report her missing.

He grabbed his hat, knowing he had to be honest with her, but he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation.

CHAPTER TWO

BEFORE CALEB DID ANYTHING, he called Dr. Oliver and she asked him to come to her office. He was glad to do so. He didn’t want to do anything to impede the return of Belle’s memory.

“Howdy, ma’am.” Caleb placed copies of the information he learned about Belle on Dr. Oliver’s mahogany desk. Removing his hat, he took a seat across from her. The room was done in soothing pastels, and calming water sounds played softly in the background.

“Ranger McCain, I’m glad you took the time to come by and bring the information,” Dr. Oliver replied. Somewhere in her fifties, Dr. Oliver’s hair was short and completely gray and she spoke as softly as the sounds wafting from the intercom.

“We’ve been waiting for this and I wanted you to have all the details.”

“Thank you. Remembering her name is very good, but it is only the start.”

“So how much information should I give her?”

Dr. Oliver flipped through the papers. “Tell her the basics. Ask questions and let her fill in the blanks. No pressure. If she asks a question, answer as little as you can. Let her strive for the complete picture.”

“Okay.”

Dr. Oliver continued to read through the papers. “A police officer? Never would have guessed that, but she’s very independent and strong, so that fits.” She looked up, her eyes thoughtful. “And no one reported her missing. That’s a puzzle. When you feed her this information, do it slowly.”

His eyes narrowed. “Do you think it’s wise to tell her any of this?”

Dr. Oliver looked at him over the rim of her glasses. “Ranger McCain, we’re not keeping secrets from her, but with a little coaxing I’m hoping she’ll remember it on her own.”

“I see.” He leaned forward. “Do you think going back to Beckett would be good for her?”

Dr. Oliver folded her hands. “In my opinion, it would be very good for Belle to be around familiar sights and sounds. That might be the stimulus she needs for a full recovery. There is no such thing as a quick fix when it comes to healing from trauma, but Belle has made remarkable strides. She’s established a healthy lifestyle and she functions very well. She’s strong enough to cope with integrating the present and memories of the traumas with her other memories, as they reveal themselves.”

Caleb ran his thumb along the rim of his white Stetson. “I hear a ‘but’ in your voice.”

“I’m going to be straightforward.”

“Please do.”

“We’ve talked about this before.”

He knew what was coming—Belle’s attachment to him.

“Belle’s emotional state is very fragile. She trusts and leans on you, and in the beginning that was very good because she’d lost all trust in people. From the fragments she recalled while in the hospital, we’ve ascertained there is a man in her life. Once her whole memory returns she won’t need to lean on you. She’ll become a fully functioning person again with an old life and a new life. If she’s torn about hurting you, it will make things very difficult for her. And I know you want the transition to go smoothly and for Belle to recover without any guilty feelings over misleading you.”

He stood and held his hat in his hand. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care for Belle, but everything I do I do with her best interest in mind.”

Dr. Oliver stood also. “I know. That’s why I haven’t asked you to back away from her. You’ve been good for Belle and you’re probably the reason she’s recovered so well. But the day is coming when she won’t need you. Don’t make her feel guilty about that. It could compromise her full recovery.”

“I would never do anything to compromise her recovery.” He placed his hat on his head. “Any advice on what to expect?”

“She’ll continue to have headaches, some severe, confusion and some dizziness. Just be patient and let everything happen naturally. Bits and pieces of her life may come back gradually, like this morning, or she could be flooded with memories all at once. Other times, she may not be aware she’s remembering. The information will just come out in something she says. I have an appointment with Belle in the morning and we’ll thoroughly go over the details, but she’s read so much and studied PTSD that she’s well aware of what’s happening. She’s become so strong, a pale comparison to the shell of a woman I first saw in the hospital. I have no doubt she’ll overcome all of this.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I hear another ‘but.’”

“Memory loss related to traumatic experiences may serve as a protective function. If Belle feels a strong secure attachment in the present she may never allow herself to remember.”

He swallowed. “So make it clear that we are only friends?”

Dr. Oliver nodded. “Yes. That would help her tremendously. She may not realize it now, but she will later.”

How will he feel later? Hurt and alone. But he’d known that from the start and he wouldn’t change anything he’d done for Belle.

As if sensing his thoughts, Dr. Oliver added, “I know you care deeply for Belle and she was lucky to have someone so unselfish and caring on her side. She has basically overcome the physical abuse of the cult—painful flashbacks and dreams are normal and Belle knows that. But once she becomes aware of the reason why she was shot she has to be able to cope. And I believe she can.”

“Me, too. Thanks for being so honest.”

“Belle’s future is in her hands.” She scribbled a number on the back of a business card. “That’s my cell. Call if you feel you need me, but Belle trusts you and you’re probably the best person to reveal tidbits about her past.”

Caleb tipped his hat and walked out, wondering exactly what the future held—for Belle. And him.

WHEN HE REACHED the Parker house, Belle was waiting for him. He followed her into the living room. Gertie was upstairs.

She turned to him. “Did you find my family?”

He removed his hat and sat on the sofa, trying to find the right words. “Sort of.”

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

He patted the spot beside him. “Sit, and let’s take this slow.”

“Okay.” She did as he asked.

Her dark hair hung down her back and her eyes were bright. How could he tell her? How could he douse that light from her eyes? He had no choice. Taking a long breath, he said, “Your parents’ names are Brett and Marie Beckett.”

Her frown deepened and he waited. Her hands framed her face, her eyes heavy with memories. “Yes. My parents.” Suddenly tears filled her eyes. “They’re dead. I remember the awful car accident. I remember. Oh, no! Oh, no!” She wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked to and fro, her hair obscuring her face.

Caleb’s stomach churned with a sick feeling, but he didn’t interfere as she dealt with her parents’ deaths all over again. He wanted to touch or hold her, but he knew it was best not to. So he just gave her time.

Slowly she wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “They were too young to have their lives cut tragically short. And they were so much in love.”

“Did you live with them?” Dr. Oliver wanted him to ask questions, so that’s how he started.

Her brow wrinkled in thought and she touched her forehead. “No. I had my own apartment. Daddy didn’t like it, but Mama said I was grown up and since I was a…” Her voice halted as another memory surfaced.

Her eyes grew big. “I was a police officer. Oh, my God! I was a police officer!”

“Yes,” he acknowledged. “In Corpus, then in Beckett, Texas.”

Her eyes became even bigger. “It’s my name. Beckett. Beckett.” She repeated the name, testing it, running it through her brain. “My grandfather lives there.” She frowned. “I worked there?”

“Can you remember?”

Her frown became fierce. “Why would I work in Beckett? My parents didn’t even live there. Oh, wait.” She held her head in a vice as memories tortured her. “After my parents died, I went there at my grandfather’s invitation. His name is Boone Beckett.”

“Yes,” Caleb confirmed. “Can you remember anything else?”

She jumped to her feet. “No, and I don’t want to.”

He stood facing her. She was barefoot and she barely came to his shoulder. “I know this is painful, but it’s what you wanted—to know the truth about yourself.”

“Yes.” She looked him in the eye. “Did my grandfather report me missing?”

This was the hard part. He shook his head. “No. No one has reported you missing.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“All I have are facts, no concrete answers. To find those you have to go back to Beckett.”

Fear flashed in her eyes and he was quick to tell her, “I’ll go with you.”

“You will?”

“Yes. I’ll stay with you until your full memory returns.”

“Thank you. I’d like that.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure I could do it alone.”

“You don’t have to.”

“When can we go?” she asked, her voice anxious.

“How about the morning after the charity ball? That will give you time to get your thoughts together, talk to Dr. Oliver and explain to Gertie.”

“Yes.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ll hate to leave her. She’s been so good to me.”

“She’ll understand. We all want you to regain your memory.”

“Yes,” she replied in a melancholy voice.

He restrained himself from touching her wet cheek. “Try not to think about it too much. We have the ball tomorrow night and then we’ll find the answers you need.”

Her face softened. “I’m sorry you got roped into that.”

“Aw, shucks, ma’am. I’d never have any fun if I didn’t squire Ms. Gertie around town.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now get some rest.”

“Caleb.”

“Yes?”

She licked her dry lips. “How old am I?”

“Thirty.”

“Oh. Yes, that feels right.” She swallowed then asked, “Am I married?”

He saw the worry in her eyes and didn’t think it would hurt to tell her. “No.”

She heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Talk to you later,” he called on his way out the door, feeling the same way she did.

THE NEXT MORNING Belle spent an hour with Dr. Oliver and felt good about the visit.

“I’m so glad it’s finally happening,” Belle said, curled up on the peach sofa.

“Yes,” Dr. Oliver agreed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Do you have any questions?”

She shrugged. “No. Not really. I believe we’ve covered everything about a hundred times.”

Dr. Oliver smiled. “You’ve been one of those patients who desires to know everything and you’ve researched PTSD thoroughly. Just be patient and let your memory unfold. You may not even be aware of it at times, and at others you may be flooded with events and scenes. Dreams and flashbacks are normal. So are the headaches, but once your recall is complete they will be less frequent, then may disappear completely.”

Belle uncurled her legs. “Caleb is going with me to Beckett.”

Dr. Oliver paused in writing notes in a file. “I know.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t object to that,” she said with an impish grin.

“You’ve been confused many times with my cautionary words about Caleb.” Dr. Oliver looked directly at her. “When your memory is complete, you’ll understand them. They are for your own peace of mind. And that’s what I want for you—for you to be at peace with your past and your present, not torn between the two. Less trauma is what you need now.” She returned to her notes. “You trust Ranger McCain and so do I. I’m relieved that he will be with you.”

“He’s a wonderful man.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Dr. Oliver looked up. “And there’s probably a wonderful man waiting for you.”

“Mmm.” She chewed on her lip, wondering about the man she’d mentioned in the hospital. He wasn’t her husband. So he had to be a boyfriend. Yet, she couldn’t bring up his face. All she could see was Caleb. She wouldn’t tell Dr. Oliver that. She would handle her feelings in her own way because she knew them for what they were. That was the main thing.

THAT NIGHT BELLE had a restless sleep, tossing and turning as parts of her life flashed through her mind like a frenetic video. She was a little girl running to meet her father when he came home from work, then she was older and her mother was teaching her to cook and how to set the table. They were on a family trip to Six Flags Over Texas, laughing and having a good time. Then school and showing her parents her report card—all A’s and she was proud. Her parents were even prouder. Friends, Cathy and Gilda, stayed over and tried on makeup and they did each other’s hair. They talked about boys, dating and the prom. Graduation and smiles then college. Texas A&M at Corpus was close so her parents were thrilled with her choice. She had to make a decision about a career and it was easy. She’d go into law enforcement like her father.

Finally the video stopped and she fell into a deep sleep. She woke up refreshed as some of the fogginess had left her. She had a happy childhood and she’d remembered so many things that her head hurt from the reel running in her mind. Her memory was returning just as Dr. Oliver had said. Now she had to wait and the rest would fall into place. Soon she’d know the face of the person who’d shot her.

She quickly dressed in shorts and a tank top, making sure her back was covered. She had deep welts there from the beatings she’d received at the hands of the cult. The racist leader said she was evil because her skin and eyes denoted her lineage was from a group not acceptable to their faith. She had to be beaten to drive out the demons and this had gone on for months.

Now her life was within her grasp. She just had to keep remembering.

She hit the front door running, taking her usual route through the affluent neighborhood. It was barely six so everything was peaceful and quiet on this April morning. Birds chirped and she could hear an occasional plane or car, but otherwise she was alone. She kept her mind blank as she jogged down the sidewalk in front of the large two-story homes and manicured lawns. The fragrance of blooming flowers wafted to her nostrils and she sucked in the scent, but didn’t pause to admire the view. She needed the exercise more than the scenery or the elusive memories that were surfacing faster than she could take them in.

An hour later she jogged back through the door breathing heavily and walked through the house to the pool area, where she quickly changed. She dived in and swam until she was completely exhausted, then she crawled out, grabbed a towel and collapsed into a lounge chair. The sky roof was open and the early-morning sun poured in. She felt at ease and at peace for that moment. Prudy hopped onto her lap and Belle knew Ms. Gertie was awake. Strange, but she still thought of herself as Belle. She wondered how long that would last. How long before she made the journey back to who she used to be and accepted it totally?

“Morning, Belle, darlin’.” Ms. Gertie, in a blue flowing silk robe, took a lounge chair next to hers.

“Morning, Ms. Gertie.” Belle knew she had to tell Gertie she’d remembered her name.

“I told Martha we’d have breakfast out here. It’s such a beautiful day.”

“Yes, it is. I ran this morning and the yards are looking so nice and there’s a scent in the air that’s indescribable.”

“It’s spring, darlin’, and there’s pheromones in the air. Turns a head to thinking about love.”

Belle stroked Prudy, smiling. “Ms. Gertie, you’re a natural born matchmaker.”

“Mmm. Too bad I didn’t do too good with myself. Living alone is not much fun, but without Harry, there’s not much fun, either.”

Harry, hearing his name barked loudly. Gertie had named her dog after her husband. She said it brought her comfort.

Gertie reached down and picked up Harry, cuddling him. “So, Belle, my darlin’, don’t let real love slip by.”

Maybe if Ms. Gertie knew her memory was returning she’d stop her matchmaking with Caleb. “I have to tell you something.”

Martha laid a tray of bran muffins, fruit, coffee and juice on a small table between them. “Thanks, Martha,” Gertie said, reaching for a cup of coffee. “Now, darlin’, what do you have to tell me?”

Belle reached for a glass of juice. “I remembered my name.”

Gertie’s head jerked toward her. “Oh, that’s marvelous.”

“Yes,” Belle agreed. “And Caleb found out a lot of other information, too.”

“So what is your name?”

“Joscelyn Marie Beckett, but everyone calls me Josie.”

“Beckett?” Gertie’s fine eyebrows crinkled in thought. “Any relation to the Becketts of South Texas?”

“Boone Beckett is my grandfather.”

“Oh, my goodness. I think I need something stronger than coffee.”

“Do you know him?”

“Darlin’, everybody in Texas knows Boone, the old scoundrel, reprobate, womanizer without a scruple to his name.”

“Sounds as if you know him very well.”

“I’ve run into him over the years at political fund-raisers and political events. Never saw eye to eye on much of anything. It’s hard to believe that someone as sweet as you could be his granddaughter. Evidently you don’t have much of your grandfather in you.”