by Judy Duarte
Jack spoke to the mares, much like Grandpa used to. “I’ll bet you two would like to get outside for some exercise.”
“Katie turns them out into the corral, and they seem to like that.” Alana took a deep breath, savoring the barn scents of horse, leather and alfalfa. Grandpa used to smell like that sometimes, before he got really sick.
She moved toward a bale of alfalfa and reached for a handful to give Bailey and Selena a treat.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jack said. “I think you’re pregnant.”
Alana’s gut clenched, her cheeks warmed to a slow burn. He knew. So much for her thinking she could put off that come-to-Jesus conversation they needed to have. She slowly turned to face him, ready to take her punishment. But Jack wasn’t looking at Alana or at her silhouette. He was talking to Bailey while stroking her neck and examining her belly.
“Excuse me?” Alana asked.
“I’m not a vet, but I think Bailey’s going to foal. I’d say in a month or so. When was she bred?”
She carefully let out a breath and willed the alfalfa in her trembling hand to still. “Grandpa tried to breed her right before he and I met. I think it was last fall. But he told me he didn’t think it took. Then he got sick, and we were pretty busy with doctor’s appointments and that sort of thing. But that had to be...” She began counting back the months. “That must have been in September. Maybe early October. I came a few days before Halloween, and he passed in December. Right after Christmas.”
They’d shared two family holidays together—three, if you counted Halloween and the cookie-baking, pumpkin-carving night—all special times she’d never, ever forget.
“When’s the last time the vet came out here?” Jack asked.
“I...” Alana was at a loss. “I don’t know.”
“You ought to schedule a call.”
“Okay.” She’d put it on her to-do list, although she had no idea what it would cost. Then again, the colt could be sold eventually. Grandpa’s final gift.
But how could she sell Bailey’s baby? It wouldn’t seem right.
“Do you mind if I saddle Selena?” he asked. “We can take her out to the corral, and you can ride there until you feel more comfortable going out on the trail.”
“I’d like that.” A lot. Grandpa Jack would have liked the idea, too. He’d been working with her, hoping to help her feel comfortable on the horses before he’d gotten too sick to go outside. And it was sweet of Jack to offer.
As she handed half of the alfalfa to Bailey, Selena whinnied in jealousy. Bailey’s head jerked back, causing Alana’s heart to race, her grip on the hay to loosen enough that it dropped to the floor.
Jack placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, calming her with the warmth of his touch.
“Are you afraid of horses?” he asked. “If so, we can work on it until you feel more comfortable around them.”
We. She liked the sound of that. Yet as nice as the offer was, as comforting the thought, she took a step back and placed a shaky hand over her small baby bump.
“I’m just a little jumpy,” she said. “That’s all.”
But it was more than that. What if she fell off or Selena stepped in one of the gopher holes and stumbled?
No, Alana wouldn’t risk it. She’d never do anything to hurt the baby she desperately wanted. “Let’s wait on the riding lessons, okay?”
“Why?”
She couldn’t very well tell him the real reason. And she wasn’t about to tell him another lie she’d have to confess to and apologize for. So she opted for a different excuse that made perfect sense. “You shouldn’t overexert yourself until after your appointment with Dr. Kirkland next week.”
“You’re probably right.”
In this case, it was definitely the best decision. Unfortunately, when it came to Clay—also known as Jack McGee—it appeared to be the only good one she’d made since meeting him.
* * *
This morning, like he’d done the past four mornings after he’d been discharged from the hospital, Jack took a long, hot shower. While the bathroom was still warm and steamy, he opened the door to cool it down. Then he wiped off the mirror and studied his face before shaving, trying to spot something familiar, anything that might spark a memory about the man he was and the life he’d led before coming to Rancho Esperanza.
He had a faint scar on his chin, one he vaguely remembered having for years. A dirt bike crash when he was just a kid came to mind, but the feeble thought disappeared as quickly as it surfaced.
On the upside, the swollen knot on his head had gone down considerably and the bruise under his eye had begun to yellow and fade. Even the stitches below his hairline had started to itch, a sign that the wound was healing.
This morning, when he’d stopped in the kitchen for a cup of coffee, Alana had reminded him about the appointment he had at the clinic on Tuesday to remove them, although he didn’t need a reminder. As luck would have it, he didn’t have a problem remembering anything that had happened during and since his stay at the hospital. That part of his memory was as clear as the blue Montana sky. But he’d be damned if he could recall anything prior to that time.
Of course, all wasn’t lost. Over the past few days, he’d picked up on a few other things, like some abilities he must have acquired in the past. He had a decent grasp of the Spanish language. And he had some definite preferences when it came to food and drink. He liked his eggs over easy, his coffee black and strong. He also had a hankering for prime rib and a baked potato—loaded with bacon, sour cream and chives.
Yesterday, while he’d been wandering around in the barn, he’d found an old beat-up radio on a shelf. He plugged the cord into an outlet on the wall and turned it on, just to see if it worked. It did. He didn’t even have to touch the dial. It was tuned to a country station, and he recognized most of the songs.
On top of that, he seemed to know a lot about cattle and horses, which was a little surprising, considering the definitely citified clothing he’d been wearing at the hospital. But when it came to getting a bead on who he really was and where he’d come from, he still drew a blank.
But that didn’t mean he sat around and stewed about the dilemma. He tried to keep himself busy by helping out around the ranch and trying to pay for his keep—more so today than ever.
“Don’t forget I’m having Callie’s baby shower here,” Alana had said over breakfast.
“I won’t.”
His short-term memory worked just fine. But the fact that she tried so hard to help, to look after him, reached deep inside, as if filling a vast, emotional void he hadn’t realized he had. But hell, why wouldn’t it? Fate had knocked him off-kilter, and everything that held any real value to him seemed to be locked in one big black hole.
“I’ll be serving lunch to the ladies around one,” she told him as she placed a fruit salad into the fridge. “But I’ll have plenty of food—enough for you to fix yourself a plate.”
“Thanks. But if you don’t mind, I’ll just make a sandwich and take it with me. To be honest, I’d rather not be around when your friends get here.”
She laughed, a pretty sound that lay easy on the ear and made him glad he’d drawn it out of her. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid of crashing a hen party?”
“That’s it, all right. They might unleash my inner rooster.”
She laughed again, then gave him a playful sock on the arm. “Then, it’s probably best if you make yourself scarce.”
Damn. He liked seeing the playful side of her, the way her smile dimpled her cheeks and made her pretty green eyes light up.
And her laugh. He’d heard it before. He wasn’t sure when, but the sound of it stirred an inner knowledge. It stirred his blood, too. And a memory seemed to rise up out of nowhere.
A hotel bar.
He’d walked in for a drink and spotted he
r, sitting alone, sipping a glass of wine.
Long wavy black hair tumbled over her shoulders. Big green eyes framed with thick, dark lashes. A light scatter of freckles across her nose. A bow-shaped mouth, pink and glossy after a fresh application of lipstick.
A burst of excitement, fueled by adrenaline, damn near torpedoed his heart, and...
The images drifted away as quickly as they had risen to the surface, but that same visceral reaction remained.
As his gaze locked on hers, her laughter faded as the humor seeped out of the room and something else took its place. If they’d met only once before, like she’d said, he’d bet a hundred bucks to a wooden nickel that their encounter hadn’t been brief, that they’d done more than pass the time with idle chitchat. But he’d be damned if he could prove it. And he had no idea what to do about it now, when he wasn’t at one hundred percent.
He nodded toward the mudroom. “I’m heading out to the barn. I might even take Selena for a ride this afternoon.”
Oddly enough, she didn’t suggest he wait until after he saw the doctor, as they’d agreed. Maybe it was her memory that was slipping—at least, the short-term portion. By the way her eyes widened, and her lips parted, he suspected her thoughts had drifted to that night, too. But he wasn’t going to stick around and try to take a walk down memory lane with her when he had nothing more to go on than instant physical attraction.
The dogs seemed to have the same idea that he did, because they’d stuck by his side all morning and hung out while he ate one of the turkey sandwiches Alana planned to serve her guests. They’d also tagged along with him as he went into the barn, saddled Selena and then led her out into the yard.
After mounting the sturdy black mare, he spotted an old lady in the small orchard, wandering from tree to tree. A yellow scarf tied around her head held a shock of bright red curls at bay.
She wasn’t very tall, barely over five foot one or two, and there was a spring in her step. She wore a green sweater, a brightly colored blouse boasting a butterfly print and blue stretch pants. He guessed her to be in her mid-to-late seventies.
What was she doing out there? Shouldn’t she be inside, attending the baby shower with the other women?
His curiosity piqued, he remained in the yard and continued to watch her as she reached for a low-hanging cherry, plucked it from the branch and popped it into her mouth.
Didn’t most women enjoy parties, luncheons and friendly chatter?
Unable to help himself, he rode to the small orchard to find out why she might be different.
At his approach, she looked up and lifted her free hand to shield the afternoon sun. Recognition brightened her eyes, and she smiled. “I see you found the Lazy M.”
Did she know him? Or did she have him confused with someone else?
She furrowed her brow and eased closer, squinting as she approached him and the horse. “What in the hell happened to you? What’d you do? Say the wrong thing to a woman with a rolling pin in her hands?” She chuckled. “Looks to me like she smacked you upside the head.”
He stiffened, and the mare took a sidestep. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
“Oh, don’t mind me. I was just having fun with you. Other than taking a beating, Clay, how are you doin’?”
Clay? He’d been right. She was off her rock. Why else would she be wandering in the small orchard when all the other women were in the house? “My name’s Jack.”
She scrunched her craggy face, deepening the lines in her forehead. “That’s not what you told me at the market. You bought yourself a water and asked for directions to the Lazy M. You said your name was Clay. I heard you, plain as day.”
She was definitely an odd duck, but she still had him stumped because some of what she said made sense.
She eyed him carefully. “You look dumbstruck.”
That’s because he was. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t remember meeting you.”
“Are you kidding? I hope so, ’cause you’d better not get caught forgetting things around here.” She nodded toward the house. “Some people might think you’re touched in the head. Of course, I don’t give a frog’s leap when they say that about me. I use it to my advantage every chance I get. But you’re too young and good-lookin’ to let a rumor like that get out of hand.”
So she admitted being a little...touched. And it sure seemed like it, but still...
“I see you’re wearin’ Jack’s clothes,” she said. “You workin’ his ranch for his granddaughter?”
“Yeah. Sort of. For the time being, anyway.”
She clicked her tongue. “I had you figured for a city slicker when I first saw you.”
“You did, huh?” He tried to dig up the details of their supposed meeting, but all he got was a big fat blank.
“Dang, Clay. You look like a kid who just got told Santy Clause ain’t real. You mean to tell me that you really don’t remember?” She let out an unladylike snort. “I’ll admit to being a little forgetful at times, although I’m not demented—no matter what my family might think.”
He wasn’t so sure about that.
She scanned the length of him, from the boots resting in the stirrups to the worn hat on his head. “I gotta say, you looked mighty fine in those fancy duds you were wearing, but sittin’ up on that horse, dressed like a cowboy, is a better fit, if you ask me.”
Jack sucked in a breath, then blew it out. “I’m sorry. This bump on my head has messed with my memory. What’d you say your name was?”
“I didn’t. But I’m Betty Sue McInerny. You stopped by the casino, and I was playing on a slot machine.”
She’d mentioned a market before. And now it was a casino? Maybe he’d seen her on two occasions, but it was just as likely that he’d been right in the first place and she’d gotten him confused with someone else.
Either way, he tried his best to remember her. She seemed vaguely familiar, but he still came up empty.
So what else was new?
“Aren’t you supposed to be in the house?” he asked. “At the baby shower?”
“Yep. I’ll go back in shortly. I just wanted to snatch a few cherries off the trees out here. When I was a little girl, my grandparents had an orchard. My recall isn’t what it used to be these days, but some things are hard to forget. And when a special memory comes along, I like to indulge myself.”
Jack could relate to that. He glanced up at the tree nearest him. “I see some ripe cherries. Let me pick some for you.” He urged Selena forward, reached into the branches and plucked off a few. When Betty Sue neared him and the mare with up-stretched arms, he dropped them into her cupped hands.
She offered him a bright-eyed grin that suggested she might be more crafty than demented. “Thanks, Clay.”
There it was again. Clay.
“Aunt Betty!” a woman called from the back porch. “Where’d you wander off to?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Betty rolled her green eyes and stuffed the fruit into her sweater pockets. “I can’t even take a pee these days without my niece or nephew pounding on the door to make sure I’m okay.” She turned toward the house, cupped her hands over her mouth and hollered, “I’ll be right there, Carlene.”
“You promise?” the woman retorted. “I don’t want to have to get in the car and go looking for you again.”
Betty let out a sigh, then turned to Jack, her head tilted upward, and blew out a raspberry. “What’d I tell you? I can’t even take a leisurely stroll without someone getting their panties in a wad.”
Jack couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t sure when he’d met the woman before or what he’d thought about her at the time, but he liked her now.
“I’ll see you around, Clay.” Then she headed toward the house.
Oddly enough, the name Clay seemed a little more familiar than Jack. But then again, poor Betty appeared to be half a
bubble off plumb—a carpenter’s term for being unbalanced or not quite straight. Just one more thing he seemed to know, a skill or knowledge he had, another small hint of who he was.
Either way, and as much as he hated to admit it, at this point in time, he couldn’t rely on Betty Sue’s memory any more than he could his own.
* * *
Alana carried a nearly empty pitcher of sweet tea into the kitchen to replenish it and spotted Marissa Garcia at the sink, washing dishes. Marissa, a pretty brunette in her midtwenties, had volunteered to help plan Callie’s baby shower, but so far, she’d yet to join the other guests for more than a few minutes at a time. “Why don’t you leave those for later. You’re missing the party.”
Marissa turned away from the sink and grinned. “I will. I just thought I’d get a start on the clean-up.”
“I appreciate all your help, decorating and cooking and all, but I was hoping you’d get a chance to spend some time hanging out with the rest of us.”
Marissa was new in town—not that she hadn’t had a chance to meet any of the locals. She worked part-time at the donut shop on Main and was also taking classes at the local junior college, where she hoped to get a business degree. It was a perfect career for her. She had a good marketing head on her shoulders. In fact, Marissa had encouraged Alana to prune the orchard, plant a big garden and then sell cherries, veggies and baked goods at the Fairborn Farmer’s Market. It had been a super idea. And before long, Alana would begin to see money coming in rather than only going out.
“I’ll be done here in a minute. Then I’ll join you guys in the living room.” Marissa tossed her a smile and winked. “Just in time for cake.”
“Good! Because you did an amazing job with it. Who would have guessed you’d be not only a business whiz but a baker?”
Marissa laughed. “I guess you can say I’m a Jackie of all trades.”
Jackie. Jack. Alana set the pitcher on the counter, then blew out a wobbly breath.