A Wyoming Christmas To Remember

Always yes. Except recently, when there had been so much no between them that their history together hadn’t been able to protect them.

She took all that in, then glanced at the key chain. “I’m seeing a pattern here. There’s a little ceramic Woodstock on here, and there were two ornaments on the little Christmas tree in my hospital room.”

“You like birds. And you love Woodstock. Always have. For your birthday every year when we were kids, I would get you something Woodstock. Woodstock erasers, Woodstock socks, Woodstock key chain. In fact, the one in your hand I gave you on your fourteenth birthday.”

She smiled. “Really?”

He nodded. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s head in.” He gestured for her to lead the way because he wanted her to feel that this was her house, even if she didn’t remember it.

She used her key and opened the door, slowly stepping inside. “I like it!” she exclaimed, nodding at the colorful round area rug in the entryway and vintage Le Chat Noir poster with the black cat on the wall.

“Oh my, who’s this?” she asked as a German shepherd hurried up to her with mournful whines. The dog sat at her feet.

“That’s Moose, retired K-9. We worked together for years when I was a detective, but for the last three years he’s been enjoying a life of leisure. He’s eleven years old and adores you.”

“Aw,” she said, kneeling down to pet him. “Hi, Moose.”

“He missed you the past couple of days.” And so did I. Praying you’d wake up. That’d you’d be okay. Bargaining.

“I’ll take your coat,” he said, removing his and hanging it up in the hall closet. She unzipped her down jacket and handed it to him, and he hung it up with her red-and-pink scarf, a gift from her knitting-crazy twin.

He watched her walk around the living room, looking at objects and peering at photos. She picked up their wedding photo off the mantel, one of her favorites because that devilish chapel beagle had photobombed him dipping Maddie in a kiss near the steps.

Her shoulders slumped, and she put the photo back. “I can’t remember my life.” She shook her head. “And it’s clearly a wonderful one. Loving family. Handsome, devoted husband. Lovely home all decked out for Christmas. A sweet dog named Moose.” Tears shone in her eyes, and she dropped down onto the sofa, Moose padding over and putting his head on her lap. She leaned over and buried her face in, hugging the dog.

Well, if it makes you feel any better, things weren’t all sunshine and roses.

Badumpa. Not.

He sat down beside her, hands on his knees. And before he could even think about it, he blurted out, “It’s my fault you got into the accident, Maddie. I said something that upset you, and you got in your car and peeled out fast to get away from me.”

She turned to him. “What did you say?”

“That maybe we should separate.” He closed his eyes for a second and let out a breath. He’d hated saying that. The first time and now.

“The emphasis on should makes me think someone else suggested it first. Me?”

He shook his head. “Right before the accident, we’d had our weekly appointment with a mediator slash marriage counselor. We’d been going to her to help us deal with a stalemate. She said it seemed to her that neither of us was willing to budge and that maybe we should think about separating. I got so upset, I stalked out. You followed and we argued outside. And then I said it—maybe we should separate.”

“What could have possibly come between us to that degree?” she asked.

He took a breath. “Starting a family.”

“Ah,” she said, looking at her left hand. Her bare left hand. “Now things are making sense. Before I got in my car and huffed away, did I yank off my wedding ring because I was angry about that and about you saying maybe we should separate?”

“That’s exactly right. You took it off and handed it to me. I have it in my wallet.” He’d never forget how that had made him feel, like his entire world was crumbling and he couldn’t catch the pieces.

“So I assume it’s me who wants kids?” she asked.

He nodded.

“And you’re content with things as they are. Wife, dog, job.”

He nodded again.

“Married seven years, thirty-two years old, seems like a reasonable time—past reasonable time—to start a family,” she said, a prompting lilt in her voice.

Acid churned in his gut. “I never wanted kids. You always did. And you counted on me changing my mind. You had no doubt I would, even though I cautioned you about that. You never really believed deep down that I wouldn’t want a ‘little Wolfe, a little us’—as you used to say.”

She tilted her head. “And you still don’t?”

He got up and walked over to the windows, looking out at the snow still clinging to the bare tree limbs. “The past two days, while you were lying in that hospital bed...and I had no idea if you’d wake up...I made so many bargains. If only you’d wake up, I’d agree to ten kids. As many as you wanted.”

“So we’re going to have ten kids?”

He turned around to face her. “If that’s what you want.”

“Because you bargained?”

He nodded. “The most important thing to me was having you back. I have that. So yes. Ten kids.” He’d almost lost her. He’d said, prayed, that he’d give anything to have her back. And he’d meant it.

She stared at him, lifting her chin, and he had no idea what she was thinking. Her expressions, the way her mind worked now—all that was new to him. “Well, the only thing I want right now is my memory back. Maybe just being here, in my home, with you, will jog something, trigger something.”

He hoped so. Until then, they had this rare chance to be together without the past stomping on their marriage. He had the unfair advantage of knowing everything about them while she knew nothing, and there was no way he’d take it. He’d always be honest with Maddie. And what was most true this minute was that he loved her more than anything, would do anything for her. Ten children. Twenty.

All that mattered was that she’d survived, that she’d be all right, that she was home.

Chapter Two

Maddie needed to take a big step back, let everything she’d learned settle in her mind, her bones, so she suggested a tour of the house. Sawyer seemed relieved. She followed him upstairs, admiring the photos lining the wall. Pictures of the two of them—together—at so many different ages, from early childhood to what looked like recently. She and Sawyer, age five or six, holding kiddie fishing rods at a riverbank, a bucket between them. She and Sawyer, middle school years, arms linked for a semiformal, Maddie liking her pale pink dress. She and Sawyer, early twenties, Sawyer in a Wedlock Creek Police Department T-shirt, giving Maddie a piggyback ride. A couple with a long history together.

Upstairs was a wide landing with a sitting area. Off it were four rooms. Sawyer opened doors. The first was a guest room. Next to it a large bathroom. And the next room was completely empty.

“Couldn’t figure out what to do with the space?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You earmarked it as the nursery,” he said, glancing away.

“Ah.” She peered into the room—pale gray walls, wood floor, closet, four big windows. It would make a nice nursery—with furnishings in it. She imagined herself walking past this room every day, well aware it was empty. That must have burned, she thought. For both of them. A constant reminder of their stalemate.

“And this is our bedroom,” he said, opening the door to a big, cozy room, a four-poster bed with a fluffy white down comforter between two windows. There were plump pillows and a table on either side, matching lamps and a book on each—a history of Wyoming and a mystery. She wondered which was her side, her book. And what it would be like to slip under that soft, warm comforter beside a man she knew was her husband—and yet didn’t know at all. As if he could read her mind, he added, “I can sleep in the guest room or take the couch until your memory returns. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Well, we don’t know what will make my memory return, and since routine might help, I say we do what we always do. You’re my husband, and intellectually, I know that, so I’m going with it.”

He nodded and, if she wasn’t mistaken, looked kind of relieved.

So she would be sleeping beside him tonight. The thought had her taking him in on a purely physical level, and he was so attractive to her that a little burst of excitement and some butterflies let loose in her belly. She liked the way he looked at her with his serious green eyes—as if she were someone very special to him, and despite the issues in their marriage, that did seem clear to her. Plus, her family obviously liked him. And he was tall and strong and the top cop here in Wedlock Creek. Good looks aside, there was something very trustworthy about Sawyer Wolfe.

Of course, Maddie had little to go on in that department. Amnesiac Maddie had known him all of a few hours.

She walked over to a huge closet and opened it. His and hers. Hers on the left. She was very organized. Two piles of sweaters sat next to a row of hung jeans. She had lots of those. She also had a lot of shoes. She moved over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Ooh. Many lacy bras and underwear. Some sexy nighties. A flutter swept her belly again, and she found herself very aware of him sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her.

On top of the dresser was a round mirrored tray holding perfume and a red velvet box. Inside she found jewelry. Earrings, bangle bracelets. A diamond tennis bracelet. Necklaces. A stunning diamond ring, square and surrounded by little baguettes in a gold setting. She thought about her wedding ring inside his wallet. Interesting that he kept it there instead of having put it in here.

She bit her lip and turned around to face him. “I assume asking you why you don’t want children, never wanted children, isn’t a simple one.”

“It is and isn’t,” he said.

“But after seven years of marriage? A strong marriage?”

“I’ve always had a lot on my plate,” he said, standing up and moving over to the window. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been chief at the WCPD for only almost a year now, and since I got that promotion on the young side, I felt I had to really prove myself. And before that, I wanted to be chief and worked double time to earn the job, so the timing just never seemed right to even think about starting a family. I have so much responsibility at work—for the town, for my staff—that I guess I couldn’t see having that kind of responsibility at home too. A baby needing more than I could give.”

A lot on his plate. A baby needing more than he could give. Both of those sounded like excuses, and she had a feeling the Maddie she’d been before the thonk on the head knew the real reasons he didn’t want children. The reasons he wasn’t mentioning.

“Hungry?” he asked with a tight smile. “I could heat up your mom’s chili and corn bread—she brought over a ton of food for me the day of the accident. I could barely choke down coffee, though.”

Quite a change of subject. He clearly didn’t want to talk about the state of their marriage anymore. “I had the hospital’s cream of something soup,” she said. “And some stale crackers. So I’m good for a few hours.” She glanced outside. “It’s a pretty nice day—I wouldn’t mind walking into town and visiting my family’s store.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You feel up to it? Dr. Addison said you shouldn’t go overboard trying to get back up to speed or even acclimated.”

“I don’t feel woozy at all. And my curiosity has the better of me right now.” Plus, she wanted to pepper him with questions—about everything—and despite not knowing him at all, she knew from his expression that he wasn’t up to that. “MacLeod’s Multiples Emporium isn’t far from here, is it?” Their house was just two blocks off the main street with all its charming-looking shops and restaurants.

He shook his head. “Walking distance—it’s right on Main Street, a couple minutes’ walk from the wedding chapel. You can’t miss MacLeod’s—there’s a painted wood sign with baby stuff on it—crib, baby shoes, baby bottles. And the windows are decorated to the nines for Christmas.”

I love Christmas. The thought startled her until she realized it was new knowledge from her response to that adorable miniature tree on her hospital windowsill and the shops decked out and the way their house was decorated for the holidays. She had no doubt she’d always loved Christmas. “I’d like to go check it out. Since I worked there, maybe it’ll ring a bell.”

“You’ll call me or text me if you feel overwhelmed or want to go home?” he asked. “I’ll come get you right away.”

She nodded, scrolling through her contacts on her phone. “Yup, there you are. Sawyer—cell and work.” Her family was in there too. And a bunch of other people whose names she didn’t recognize.

“I’ll drop you there, then go check in at the station for a bit,” he said. “We can meet up when you’re ready to go home.”

“Sounds good,” she said.

They headed back downstairs, and he handed Maddie her down jacket and scarf and put on a heavy brown leather jacket. He stood in front of the door, and Maddie had the feeling he almost didn’t want to let her go, that he liked having her in the house, their house. She wondered if he was worried about their marriage, if their impasse had gotten even bigger than their shared history, their love.

And she wondered if, when her memory did return, they’d be right back in that snowy moment outside the mediator’s office.

According to Sawyer, thirty-eight degrees in Wyoming in December was practically springlike, so they decided to walk the couple of blocks into town. He’d mentioned that the police station was just another half mile down. Wedlock Creek was bustling, people going in and out of stores, carrying bright bags with wrapped gifts poking out. The moment they arrived on the corner of Main Street, they were mobbed by well-wishers.

“It’s so wonderful to see you out and about!” one woman said, reaching for Maddie’s mittened hand. “We were all so worried. No one more than Sawyer, of course. And maybe your mom and dad.”

Sawyer smiled. “You’re right, Brenna,” he said, making a point of her name.

Maddie caught on quickly that, after the third such back-and-forth, Sawyer was covering for her lack of memory, and luckily, acquaintances were giving something of a wide berth since she’d gotten out of the hospital only that afternoon. “Do I know everyone?” she asked as they finally headed across the street toward MacLeod’s Multiples Emporium.

“Yup. Both of us do. Wedlock Creek is a small town, and we’ve lived here our entire lives. And I’m the chief of police, so everyone knows me. We knew everyone without that added to the mix.”

Maddie looked up at the pastel painted sign atop the length of her family’s business. A family walked past—with two red-haired identical twin girls. A woman wheeling a triple stroller was across the street. Multiples everywhere. Including right here—me, she thought.

“Your dad made the sign and painted it,” Sawyer said. “He’s quite a craftsman. He hand makes all the furniture MacLeod’s sells, cribs and bassinets and other wood items. He has a big following.”

“How wonderful,” she said, admiring the sign and the easel out front listing a colorful array of items in someone’s excellent handwriting. Everything from personalization to layettes to baby paraphernalia to children’s clothing. She watched two women wheeling twin strollers go inside the shop; two more came out carrying big yellow shopping bags with the MacLeod’s logo.

“I’ll probably be thirty minutes or so,” she said to Sawyer. “I’ll just visit the store and say hi to my family if they’re there. I don’t think I’ll walk around town just yet on my own in case I run into someone who knows me and I have no idea who they are. Seems so complicated to explain about my memory.”

He nodded. “I’ll pick you up here in thirty minutes.”

She smiled, and he leaned over awkwardly and kissed her on the cheek. He hesitated before pulling back, and she had the feeling he’d wanted to embrace her. More than embrace—hold her, tightly. Frankly, she could use a hug.

“See you in a bit,” she said, those flutters in her belly again, and darted into the shop. She turned back to see Sawyer watching her as if to make sure she was okay. She gave a wave and walked in farther. When she looked back, he was finally heading up the street.

The shop was both elegant and folksy at the same time and separated into sections for clothing and furniture and baby paraphernalia. The place was pretty crowded too; Maddie could see two saleswomen with MacLeod’s name tags helping shoppers.

“Maddie!”

She turned to find her twin, Jenna, smiling and rushing up to her. She and Jenna really did look a lot alike. They both had the same blue eyes and slightly long nose, wavy light brown hair past their shoulders. Jenna wore a dark purple maternity wrap dress and gray suede knee-high boots, lots of gold bangles on her arm. And a gold wedding band and solitaire diamond ring.

“I’m surprised to see you,” Jenna said, straightening a huge stuffed giraffe. “Feeling all right?”

“I feel pretty good. A little weird not knowing anything about myself—okay, a lot weird. I figured I’d come check out the family business. Do you work here too?”

Jenna nodded. “I’m a saleswoman, and let me tell you, the huge belly helps. Five minutes ago, I sold three personalized cribs—the ones our dad famously hand makes—and then the mom and her mom came back a minute later and added the triple bassinets they were waffling on. And then the mom bought three of these,” she said, pointing to three big stuffed bear chairs with pink or blue bow ties around their necks.

“Ooh, you are good. Did I work on the floor too?”

“Nah, you’re more a back-office type. You’re not a pushy schmoozer like me.”

Maddie laughed. “Speaking of pushy, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She leaned a bit closer to whisper. “Was I pushing Sawyer to have a baby?”

Jenna’s smile faltered. “Maddie, I love you. You’re my sister, my twin. But you don’t remember anything about your life, and I’m not sure I should fill in details that are personal between you and your husband.”

Maddie thought about that. “I get it. How about details about my husband. He said we grew up next door to each other.”

“More like Sawyer grew up in our house. He’s been an honorary MacLeod since he was five, when he and his dad moved into the in-law apartment of our neighbors’ house. The Wolfe door opened very close to our side porch, so that’s how you and Sawyer became such good friends. Apparently I was anti boy, but you adored Sawyer from the get-go.”

“He and his dad lived in an in-law apartment? With his dad’s in-laws?”

Jenna shook her head. “No. That’s just what one-or two-bedroom apartments attached to private homes are called. They were usually meant for parents or in-laws as they aged. The neighbors back then were friendly with Sawyer’s mom, so they felt terrible about the situation and gave his dad a big break on rent.”

“What situation?” Maddie asked.

A shopper walked up to them. “Excuse me, is it possible to get those adorable little cowboy hats personalized for my impending triplet nephews?”

Jenna nodded at the woman. “Personalization is MacLeod’s specialty. I set aside two of those hats for my little babies-to-be—a girl and boy. My husband and I still can’t agree on names, so the personalization will have to wait.”

The woman laughed. “Names are the one thing my husband and I do agree on.” She put three impossibly tiny leather cowboy hats in her basket and continued on in the stuffed animal area.

Jenna led Maddie over near the checkout desk away from the shoppers. “Sawyer’s mom died from complications after his birth. His dad raised him alone. Well, he tried, I guess. But he really wasn’t cut out for fatherhood. I think the landlords let him stay to make sure Sawyer would have a safe place to live next to caring neighbors. They were traveling a lot, but between them and us looking out for Sawyer, he had what he needed.”

Maddie frowned. “Sounds rough.”

“I’m sure it was. No mom. A father who wasn’t really present—and lots of girlfriends in and out. To be honest, if he hadn’t lived next door to us and slept over so often, there’s a good chance he would have been taken away and put in the foster-care system. His father was that neglectful. But no one wanted to see that happen.”

Maddie thought about how Sawyer had said he’d always known he hadn’t wanted kids. That made a little more sense to her now.

She imagined a little Sawyer, three, five, eight, ten. No mother. A father with issues. Alone, hungry, no guidance. Slipping next door to the warm, welcoming MacLeods. She was glad her family had been there for him. That she’d been there for him. They’d been best friends their whole lives.

She could also imagine wanting to start a family. Being thirty-two and the ole biological clock ticking away. “I must have figured he’d change his mind about wanting kids,” Maddie said. “But he never did, huh?”

Jenna bit her lip and seemed unsure if she should say anything. “No. This is all secondhand from you, so I guess it’s okay for me to tell you.” She shook her head. “How crazy is this situation? Anyway, yes. In fact, he put off proposing because of it. Because he knew you wanted a houseful of kids, and he just wanted you and a good dog.”

“But he did propose. He told me he bought my dream house and then proposed.”

Jenna smiled. “He asked Mom and Dad what to do. He told them he loved you more than anything, but he didn’t want kids and you did, and how could he propose when he couldn’t promise the one thing you really wanted. They said he’d change his mind. I said he’d change his mind. You said he’d change his mind. And finally, Sawyer got to a place where he could imagine changing his mind—one day. Maybe. I think because he loved you so much he could imagine it, you know, even if he didn’t want it for himself. You told me he made it very clear he couldn’t promise he’d ever want kids and that there was a very good chance he wouldn’t.”

Yikes. “I feel awful,” Maddie said, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “He was so honest about it. It’s not fair to him.”

“And it’s not fair to you either, Maddie,” Jenna said gently. “You were both always honest with each other. But suddenly time stopped being on your side. And let me tell you, having a pregnant twin sister didn’t help.”

Maddie eyed her twin’s big, lovely belly. “I bet.” She sucked in a breath. “All I want now is my memory back. My life back. I don’t even remember wanting a baby. I don’t really know what that would even feel like.”

“Well, maybe you and Sawyer can use this time to get to know each other all over again without that stalemate pressing on you. It’s always been there the past few years, worse this past year. But now the two of you can just be Maddie and Sawyer again. For a time anyway.”

Maddie nodded. “Because my memory will come back. Dr. Addison said it could be a week, three weeks, possibly longer, but she thinks just a few weeks.”

“It’ll all come back. With these new memories you’re making every moment now.”

“Do you think we were headed for a separation?” Maddie asked.

Jenna frowned. “I can’t even imagine it. You were class BFFs every year since first grade. You were MadSaw—your own celebrity nickname. You guys love each other.”

“He said he made all kinds of bargains while I was unconscious. That if I woke up, he’d give me ten kids.”