A Time to Remember

“He phoned to tell us that they found your mom. She hurt her head and they’ve taken her to the hospital for tests, so we can’t see her right now. But once the doctors fix her up, she’ll be fine.” I hope.

Cody stared at him, his confusion evident.

“Mommy’s going to get all better, Cody. Do you understand?”

Tears dripped from the little boy’s tanned cheeks, but his gray eyes shone like hammered silver when Cody finally nodded his comprehension.

“Right now I think you’d better get some sleep. Okay, son?”

Cody shook his head, adamantly refusing.

“You’re not tired? Well, do you want some breakfast?”

Cody shook his head again.

Well, what then? There must be something a father could do for his kid. Gray studied the beloved face for several moments before understanding dawned.

“You want to go see Mommy?”

Cody grinned.

“Okay, sport, we’ll go. But I don’t know what you’re going to wear. You’ve grown about three inches. I don’t think any of your old stuff will fit.”

Cody grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the stairs up to his room.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’ll find something. After all, what do clothes matter when your mom’s back? Let’s go see Mommy.”

Half an hour later as he drove back into town, Gray felt exactly the way Cody looked—hopeful, excited, a bit worried, unsure of himself. What would Marissa say? Would she be awake and able to tell him where she’d been? Could she identify her abductor? Would he finally have the answers he craved?

Most of all, would she accept his apology or throw it back in his face?

The hospital parking lot was almost empty. Gray pulled in as near to the entrance as he legally could. Cody hopped out before he could be helped, his eyes dancing with excitement, impatient to get inside.

“Come on, son. Let’s go find her.”

There was no one at the admissions desk, which wasn’t surprising in their small-town hospital. Noises from a treatment room in the adjoining emergency ward helped Gray assume the nurse was busy there. It wasn’t a large building. It wouldn’t take long to find Marissa.

He spotted a sleeping Miss Winifred sitting on a lounge in one ward, head jerking forward in spasmodic nods. She awoke as soon as he approached.

“Hi, Gray. A friend of mine came in with chest pains last night. I was here when they brought Marissa back, so I thought I’d stay, catch forty winks and speak to her when she woke up. Hello, Cody. How are you today?”

Cody grinned at Miss Winifred, accepting her hug.

Back? Brought her back from where? Gray pushed that aside to mull over later. He didn’t have time to puzzle it out right now. There were other things to consider. He glanced around, thinking about Luc’s words. Maybe it would be better if he saw Marissa alone for the first time. If her injuries involved her face, Cody would need to be prepared. Personally, Gray didn’t care what she looked like—he only wanted her in his arms. For the rest of his life.

“Cody, I’m going to find your mom. I want you to stay with Miss Winifred until I come and get you. We have to be very quiet so we don’t wake up the sick people. Okay?”

Cody frowned, obviously wanting to argue, but Gray shook his head as he hunkered down in front of the boy.

“Don’t worry, son. I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back. I promise. I just need to see Mommy. I haven’t seen her for such a long time and I missed her a lot. Just like I missed you. After I’ve talked to her a little while, I’ll come back and get you. Okay?”

Cody was obviously debating, but Gray figured the boy was finding it hard to argue without speaking.

“Come on, Cody. I’ll read you this story I found about a king.” Miss Winifred winked at Gray, then continued speaking to the boy. “Your daddy just wants a minute to hug and kiss your mommy without you watching. It’s mushy adult stuff. I don’t think you want to watch that, do you?”

Cody looked at Gray as if he couldn’t remember such a thing ever happening. But after a moment he nodded and reached inside his grubby jacket. Gray stared at the picture he’d scribbled on a wrinkled sheet of paper, his name carefully inscribed below.

When had he learned to write his name?

Gray bit his lip as the impact of the many things he’d missed these past five months hit home.

Cody held his gaze, his stare never wavering as he waited for his father to take the picture. There were trees, lots of them. And two figures. One small. One large. Behind the trees was a shadowy shape that Gray understood to identify their abductor. He stared at it for some clue that would unlock his son’s silence. He found nothing.

He hunkered down, peered into his son’s clear gaze.

“It’s a very nice picture, Cody,” he murmured. “Do you want me to give it to Mommy?”

Cody nodded.

“Okay.” He accepted the picture, held it carefully while Cody settled himself in Winifred’s lap. “I’ll go find her and give her your picture.”

Satisfied that the boy was occupied and safe, Gray started down the hall. Outside the third door he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in five long months. Gray shoved the door open and stepped inside.

“Is anyone there? Oh. Hello. Can you please get me some aspirin?”

“Hello, Marissa.” He couldn’t help staring, his eyes absorbing the damaged but still fragile beauty of her sculpted face, the deep rich sapphire of her eyes, the fair skin that never quite tanned so much as her freckles joined forces to give the illusion of sun-kissed skin.

The golden tumble of her beautiful hair lay matted against her scalp, her nape hidden beneath a thick bandage.

“Hello.” She inspected him from head to toe. “You don’t look the medical type. Would you mind finding a nurse? I’ve tried to get out of this bed and do it myself, but every time I push on these bed rails, my head starts whirling. If I could just get some aspirin, I’m sure this headache would ease.”

“I don’t know if they’ll allow you to have medication until they’ve done all the tests. You have a head injury, remember? But I can go look for someone.” He surveyed her bruised face, broken nails and the scratches that covered her arms. “You look like you fought a cougar,” he muttered, his stomach clenching at the thought of what she must have been through.

“I feel like it, too.” She eased her head back on the pillows and closed her eyes. “Do you mind if we continue this discussion later? My head is about to shatter.”

“Yeah, sure. I guess.” It stung that she brushed his concern off as if five months ago she’d simply driven to Denver for a day of shopping and he was nothing more than the parking attendant. “Where have you been, Marissa?”

She didn’t even open her eyes, but her voice was a whisper. “Please leave me alone.”

Impotent rage burned deep inside. Didn’t she care enough to even explain? Had five months changed everything between them? Was she remembering those last awful words he’d thrown at her?

“I was worried, Marissa. Scared stiff. I hired a private investigator when I couldn’t find you myself. I was sure that you’d phone or write. Something. But I never heard a word from you or Cody. What happened?”

Her eyes were open now. She was staring at him as if he were a specimen she was trying to define. Her blue eyes had darkened until they were almost navy. With fear? Of him?

“What do you want from me?” she asked huskily.

“What do I want? I want answers.” She was frail, she was hurt. But the need to know could not be stifled. “Where did you go, Marissa? What have you been doing? Why didn’t you contact me?”

“Good questions.”

“Well?”

She turned her head to the wall, stared at the blinds that someone had turned open to the morning sun. Gray waited, anger building inside. What was going on with her? Why was she acting like this?

“Aren’t you even going to answer me?” he sputtered, clenching his hands at his sides.

“Certainly. In due time. But I have a question, too.” She pleated the sheet with her left hand. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind answering that first?”

“I guess.” He shrugged, pretending nonchalance when he knew she was going to ask about that day. “What is your question?”

“Would you mind telling me exactly who you are?”

Chapter Three

His eyes flashed like lightning, changing from a soft dove-gray to hardened steel.

“I’m your husband.”

She stared at him while her mind desperately tried to process the information. Husband? She had a husband? Wouldn’t a woman remember if she had a husband?

“Gray,” he prompted, frowning at her. “Gray McGonigle.”

“And I’m Marissa McGonigle. I see.” She couldn’t blame him for his belligerent tone. It seemed perfectly understandable now. “I was your wife. I was married to you.”

“Are married to me,” he corrected, his tone belligerent. “Unless something’s happened that I don’t know about. Do you remember?”

She hated to destroy that sad-eyed look of puppy-dog hope in his eyes, but she couldn’t pretend. Not about this.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything.” Marissa. She turned the name over in her mind. She liked it. It sounded different, special. As if someone had taken the time to choose a name specifically for her. “My parents?” she asked, suddenly wondering why only he was here.

“Both dead. Your father died when you were little. Your mother died two years ago. Breast cancer.”

“Oh.” She felt flat, deflated, as if she’d unconsciously expected—what? Someone to be there? She chided herself for her silliness. Who else did she want? Wasn’t an unknown husband enough?

“What do you remember, Marissa?” He squinted at her as if he thought she was playing some childish game.

She attributed the angry frustration in his voice to worry. He must be worried. A husband would be worried if his own wife didn’t recognize him. Wouldn’t he?

But this man didn’t look frazzled or afraid. Or worried. He looked…defeated, she decided after a moment’s contemplation. As if he’d tried very hard and just couldn’t manage to make sense of his world.

She scoured her brain for something, some ray of hope she could offer. To her shock, nothing emerged. She looked at the gold band on his ring finger, then at the matching circlet guarded by a blazing diamond on her own left hand, and suddenly realized that she didn’t know how it got there.

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I remember nothing.” She stared at him. Blank. Her heart picked up speed as she peered around the room, stared out the window, squinted at the picture he’d laid on top of her blanket. “What’s this?”

“A picture. Cody made.”

“That’s nice.” Whoever Cody was. “Will you thank him for me?” She stared at the childish scribbles, smiled at the ghostly figure fluttering among the trees. “Is it almost Halloween?”

“No. That’s about seven weeks away.” His dark brows joined to hood his eyes. “Why?”

She shrugged. “It looks like a Halloween picture, that’s all. I’ll bet he’s a cute kid.”

“Yes.” The man named Gray nodded. “Our son is a wonderful boy. But he’s got some problems, I’m afraid.”

Whatever else he said slid past in a whirl of confusion. She got stuck on those words our son.

“Cody is my child?” she gasped.

“Well, he’s both of ours,” he agreed, one corner of his mouth tilting up in a half smile. “You used to say he got all my genes, but I’m pretty sure his stubbornness came from you.”

“A child.” She laid a hand against her abdomen as if that might somehow reawaken slumbering memories of pregnancy, labor, delivery. “How old is he?”

“Five. Almost six.” He sighed, slumped against the wall and raked a hand through his hair. “I’m guessing you don’t remember him, either.”

Marissa shook her head, then stopped the action immediately as pain threatened to swamp her tired aching body.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears welling for all the precious memories she couldn’t share with him. And she wanted to. Something about this man drew her soul, called to her. Surely somewhere in her brain she knew him?

Yet her brain drew a blank.

“It’s not your fault.”

But he sounded as if he thought it was.

“I suppose I should be grateful that my existence isn’t the only thing you’ve managed to wipe from your mind.”

Oh, the pain underlying those words. She could feel the despair gripping him, dragging him down. He’d obviously been up all night. A five-o’clock shadow gave him an edgy flair that only enhanced his harsh features. His cheekbones were definitely a legacy from his distant Cherokee heritage, but those lean, taut muscles and that burnished tan came from hard physical labor.

Marissa froze, tried to figure out how she’d come to that conclusion. But the mist that carried the insight had dissipated and she couldn’t bring it back.

“Good morning, Marissa.” A doctor who clearly knew her strode into the room, saw Gray and grinned. “You didn’t waste any time getting here.”

“No.”

She sensed there was something else the man—her husband—wanted to say. But he clamped his lips together and thrust his hands into the pockets of his worn blue jeans.

The doctor was puzzled. He glanced from her to him, then shrugged.

“How are you feeling, Marissa?”

“She’s got a headache. And she doesn’t remember anything.”

Marissa glared at Gray. Did he have to say it like that, tacked on at the end as if she’d deliberately done it to spite him? Why did he always…what? The memory eluded her.

“I can speak for myself,” she muttered, fighting to retain her composure.

Again that careless shrug, the slumping pose, the thrust of that granite chin. “So do it.”

“Thank you. I will. If you’ll let me.” She wanted it clear up front that she wasn’t going to turn into some kind of shrinking violet, no matter what she’d been like before.

The doctor ignored their verbal battle, eyes concerned as he swung his flashlight across her pupils, took her pulse, checked her reactions.

“What specifically don’t you remember?” he asked gently, frowning at her tear-filled eyes. “Do you remember me? Luc Lawrence? I moved here just after Dr. Darling had his accident. Joshua Darling.”

He could have been speaking Hindi for all she understood. Marissa frowned, waited for something. Nothing. No flash of comprehension, no lightning stroke of memory. Nothing.

“I’m married to Dani. You and Gray live next door to her ranch. Gray’s renting the land.”

“Oh.” She leaned back against the pillow and wished it would all go away. It hurt too much to think. “How did I get here?” she asked a moment later.

“We were hoping you could tell us.” Gray pushed away from the wall, his attention riveted on her, his eyes searching for—what? “You and Cody disappeared over five months ago. No one’s been able to find out where you went or what you’ve been doing. Then last night Cody showed up in the church parking lot. He was bruised, a little roughed up. But he’s fine.” He stopped, watched her. “Except that he won’t talk.”

“Why?” She felt sorry for the little boy, then realized she was thinking about her own son. “I mean, what do you think happened?”

“We were hoping you could explain.” Gray looked at the doctor. Something unspoken passed between them.

“Marissa, you were found about a mile down a very steep ravine, about half a mile away from where police think Cody crawled up. Do you recall that?” The doctor’s eyes were gentle, caring. They didn’t demand answers, not like Gray’s.

She frowned, closed her eyes, tried to imagine what she would have been doing in a ravine. Like a quilt, fear settled on her shoulders in a shroud she couldn’t shake. Swirls of nebulous memories that couldn’t be defined wavered behind her eyes. Only one word came to mind.

Run!

“Marissa! Marissa, it’s okay. You’re safe. Nothing will hurt you here.” Dr. Luc’s fingers squeezed her arms and at once the memories faded, the fear lifted. “What just happened?” Gray looked from the doctor to her, confusion evident.

“I think you had a flashback, didn’t you?” Luc murmured, holding her wrist as he measured her pulse. “Can you tell us what you saw?”

“Not—not really.” She shrank against the pillows at the sparks that lit Gray’s eyes. “I can’t! It was just shadows and whispers, nothing I could explain. And fear. I felt fear. I had to run.” She shivered, and her voice died away at the cold black terror of it.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” Gray’s fingers, warm and strong, closed around hers. “Anything else you can remember? Anything at all? A house, flowers? Did you follow a road? Anything?”

Because he looked so sad, she closed her eyes and waited for the black shroud to drown her. When it didn’t, she sighed, felt his thumb rubbing against her wrist in a soothing caress that allowed her to relax and stop fighting the hammer in her head. A picture wavered before her mind.

“There’s a river,” she whispered. “I’m swimming in a river.” Then the picture was gone and she couldn’t remember when or why or how she came to be in that river.

“That might not be a recent memory, Gray,” she heard the doctor whisper. “There’s no way of knowing just where her mind selected that from. She might have been a child.”

“I wasn’t a child,” she insisted, eyes wide open, slightly insulted that they thought they could speak in front of her, as if she were deaf. “I was like I am now.” She frowned. “No, wait a minute.” Something wasn’t right.

“It wasn’t exactly swimming,” she murmured, confused by the impressions she was feeling. “But I was in the water up to my neck. It was cold, but it felt good.”

“Was Cody there? Can you picture Cody?”

She cast about, trying to home in on a picture of a little boy, but nothing came.

“I don’t think so.” Marissa opened her eyes, shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

Gray sighed, the light in his eyes fading. She saw Luc reach out, touch his shoulder.

“Maybe it’s a nightmare, Luc,” her husband offered. “Marissa never swims. She’s afraid of the water. You wouldn’t believe the lectures she’s given me about water safety. When I took Cody fishing last year—”

She felt his hands tighten against hers before he drew them away, the sentence dying on his lips just as the hope flickered out of his eyes.

“Bubbles.” The word popped out of her without any conscious thought.

“What?”

Both men stared at her as if she were insane. Then Gray looked to Luc for direction. But the doctor was intent on his own thoughts.

“Bubbles,” she repeated, trying to understand what had prompted her to say it.

“You were washing.” Luc looked from Gray to Marissa, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Don’t you see? Soap. Bubbles. You were washing in the water.”

“Washing clothes?” she asked doubtfully, searching for the thread of a memory that eluded her.

Luc shook his head.

“Yourself. You said you were up to your neck. You wouldn’t go that deep to wash clothes, but you would if you were taking a bath.”

Gray stared at him, nodded. “So wherever you were staying, it was beside water. And you were confined.” He pointed to the marks on her wrists.

Marissa hadn’t noticed them before, but now the blue-tinged rings held her in a grip of fear. Get away. Get away from here.

The pain was suddenly excruciating and she whimpered as it flooded over her. Just from the corner of her eye she saw Gray glare at Luc, his eyes asking a question. Luc shook his head.

She closed her eyes, almost passing out as a new wave sucked her strength.

“Oh, please help me.” The hand with the IV in it felt too heavy to lift, but she did it anyway, rubbing one finger against her forehead to ease the stabbing pressure.

“What’s wrong, Marissa?”

“My head,” she whispered. “Please give me something to stop my head from hurting.”

“I’ll help you, I promise,” Luc murmured, checking her pupils again. “You can go to sleep soon. But I want you to think for just one minute more.”

The pinpricks of light from his flashlight sent waves of nausea over her body, but Marissa fought back, sucked in deep breaths of air and forced herself to relax.

“Think about what?”

“Your head hurts because it has a cut on it. Do you remember how you got that cut?”

The black curtain was hanging there again, just waiting to drop down and shut out all the questions. In a way, that’s what she wanted—oblivion. But the doctor’s tone was so gentle, so soothing, she tried to answer him.

“I was running,” she whispered. “Running away.”

“From what?”

But the answer wasn’t there. Instead, the black curtain whooshed down and Marissa couldn’t answer.

“Did she faint? What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing. Her brain had enough poking and probing and it shut down. She seems fine. Her vital signs are all excellent. Her scans were clear. She responded to all the stimuli tests we performed. The specialist’s report was faxed in this morning. Everything is normal.”

“What specialist?” Gray growled the words, knowing he should be thanking Luc, not badgering him. But every time he thought of her tied up, trying to get away, his stomach knotted. He slammed his fist against his thigh in frustration.

“I had her airlifted to the city as soon as we found her.” Luc’s cheeks turned red, but he held Gray’s stare. “I had to. I didn’t know how long she’d been out or what we’d find and I wanted to know immediately if there was brain damage.”

Gray winced, but kept his focus on Luc, pinning him.

“And you didn’t phone me until after they’d brought her back, did you?”

“No.”

“What if she’d died?”

Luc shook his head.

“Would God do that? Bring her home to let her die? I don’t think so, buddy. Where’s your faith?” He stepped backward when Gray surged forward, held up one hand. “Okay, okay. But just think about it. You had to concentrate on Cody. There was nothing you could do for Marissa. But I could, and I did.”

“You decided this all on your own?” Fury and indignation fought for supremacy. “Who consented to her care?”

“You did, through me.” Luc winced at his growl. “The three of us, Joshua, Nicole and I, consulted and decided it was for the best. We couldn’t let anything happen to Marissa, Gray. We just couldn’t.”

Gray sighed. What was wrong with him?

“I know. I should be thanking you instead of acting like an outraged—”

“Husband?” Luc grinned. “But that’s what you are. And I don’t blame you.” He picked up Marissa’s slim, scratched hand, grazing the tip of his finger over her injuries. “She put up quite a fight.”

Gray gulped, thrust away the images his brain conjured up. He could hardly bring himself to ask the next question, but he needed to know.

“You’re sure she wasn’t attacked?”

“Physically I believe she might have been,” Luc told him quietly. “But sexually?” He shook his head. “I did a full rape kit. There’s no evidence of that.”

“Thank God.” Gray sagged with relief.

“Indeed. You should be thanking Him for a lot of things, not the least of which is that your family has been restored to you. A little the worse for wear, perhaps, but they are back.”

“For now. But what’s to stop this from happening again? Who abducted them? We still don’t know that, Luc. And someone must have if her hands were tied.” He reached out, fury raging inside as he traced the unmistakable marks of rope burns.

Luc clapped him on the shoulder.

“I know you’ll probably tell me to mind my own business, but I have to say it anyway. This is something you have to take to God. There’s no other person who has the answers you want. You’re going to have to ask Him to explain it to you.” He turned, pulled open the door.

Gray stepped forward, grabbing his arm.

“Where are you going? Don’t you have to watch her for complications?”

“Someone will be monitoring her, Gray. They’ll keep me up to speed. Right now I’ve got rounds to do.” Luc paused a moment, spared a glance for Marissa, then smiled. “Besides, I’m sure you’re the best company for your wife right now. Why don’t you pull up a chair and just sit here for a while? I’m sure Marissa will have a thousand and one questions when she wakens.”