And yet… Somehow, it made things harder, too. She’d been a virgin when she’d gone to university at eighteen, both she and Bianca having been the type of shy girls who concentrated on their school work. She didn’t remember being intimate with him—with any man, in fact. Just the thought of getting naked with a guy, especially such a gorgeous one, made her want to hyperventilate into a paper bag.
Keeping her eyes closed, she shifted onto her side facing the window and settled down. She waited for about thirty seconds, then opened her eyes.
Rafe was looking at one of the little screens that she’d seen people reading in the cafe. The sunlight glinted off his dark brown hair, highlighting it with gold. He hadn’t put his hoodie back on, and the tee stretched across impressive shoulders, the sleeves tight around his biceps. If he was a firefighter, he’d have to work out regularly—that would explain the muscles, and the easy way he moved, as if he was confident with his body. He had a restless energy she liked; no doubt he had trouble sitting still for long. Although, apparently, he had sat by her side for thirty hours straight. That made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Yes, she liked him. But enough to marry him? How could she possibly stand opposite him and swear she was going to love him forever when she had no memory of their relationship? It was like an arranged marriage, and even though it happened in various cultures across the world, for her getting married was something you did with someone you trusted and loved.
He touched the screen he was holding and started tapping as if he was typing on a keyboard. She watched him, wondering if she was being stupid. Other women would kill for the chance to be Rafe Masters’ wife, she was sure. If it came to it and her memory didn’t return, was she really going to refuse to say “I do”? He seemed kind and gentle, and yet sexy enough to ensure a girl would never get bored in the bedroom. What was not to like?
He stopped typing, and then, without moving his head, he looked up at her. His lips curved up.
She decided it was pointless to be embarrassed at being caught staring. “What’s that?” she said instead, gesturing at the tiny screen in his hand.
He looked puzzled, then obviously realized she didn’t remember. “It’s an iPad.” He got to his feet, leaving it on the chair, came over to the bed, and retrieved a matching one from the cupboard. “This is yours.” He handed it to her.
She shifted onto her back and turned it over in her hands, admiring how light it was. He pressed the button on the frame, and the screen came to life.
“I guess they must have first come out around 2010,” he said. He logged her into the hospital wifi and explained what some of the apps were. “This is one of your most treasured possessions. It barely leaves your hands. Have a little explore.” He returned to his seat, picked up his own tablet, and started to read again.
Phoebe looked at all the apps and opened the one for email. She appeared to have several email addresses, none of which was the one she’d used at uni. Touching each of them, she scanned through the unopened emails from the past few days. She had a business address, which was filled with emails from bridal magazines, sewing magazines, and several from Mackenzies, the shop where she’d gotten herself a new job, according to Rafe.
“Have you told Lisa Mackenzie that I had the accident?” she asked him after reading the woman’s message that chatted away about how excited she was to have Phoebe coming to work for her.
“Yes, I rang her. She wants you to call when you feel up to it.”
Phoebe returned her gaze to the iPad. At the moment, she wouldn’t have a clue what to say.
She also had a personal address, and she flicked through those emails. Mainly from people she didn’t know. She had a few from Roberta with funny pictures or chirpy little messages. Occasionally one from her mother or her brothers. Nothing from Bianca, though, which surprised her.
“How do Bianca and I keep in touch?” she asked Rafe.
“You see her every day,” he said.
“I know, but we always used to email as well.”
“Text or Facebook, I guess.” He didn’t look up.
Of course, Facebook. She brought up the Facebook app and had a look around the site. It was different from what she remembered, but easy enough to navigate. Some friends she recognized, others she didn’t. There were lots of well wishes from people who’d obviously heard about her accident.
Still no messages from Bianca, though. Leaning over, she picked up the phone lying nearby and pressed the button on the side. It had a touch screen like the iPad.
“I don’t suppose you know my password?” she asked Rafe.
He looked amused. “It’s Henry8.”
“I really got into the Tudors, then,” she said wryly, not missing the fact that she’d obviously trusted him enough to tell him her password. “I remember the series.”
“We’ve watched it, like, ten times.”
Smiling, she typed it into the phone. It took her a moment to navigate to her messages. To her surprise, there was still nothing from Bianca.
She put down the phone and studied him.
His gaze rose slowly to meet hers. “What?” he said.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I can’t remember, Rafe. It’s not fair to hide things from me. If this is going to work, you need to be completely honest with me. I don’t believe Bianca and I don’t keep in touch when we’re apart. What’s happened?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Fair enough. You had a bit of a tiff a few weeks ago.”
Phoebe went cold inside. She’d been so close to her twin growing up, she’d sometimes felt as if they were the same person. They’d never argued as children or teens. To hear they’d done so now was as shocking as hearing she’d turned vegetarian. “What about? My new job?”
He nodded. “I think she saw it as a kind of betrayal, that you wanted to go on to better things.”
She moved onto her side again, facing him. “Do you think she was right?”
He rubbed at the screen of his iPad with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I can see her point of view, but I don’t think you should stay here just because of other people. You have to follow your heart.”
She tucked her hands beneath her cheek, her eyelids drooping. He’d told her he’d been given a promotion at an Auckland fire station. She must have gotten the job at Mackenzie’s to support him. If he’d really wanted to go, it would have been difficult to maintain a relationship if she’d stayed in Kerikeri, three-and-a-half hours away.
Maybe that friction was the reason that she sensed an unease in him. If he’d pushed her into moving, causing issues with her sister and the rest of her family, he might now feel guilty. He didn’t want to admit it was his fault.
She understood, but if he wasn’t being honest with her about that, what else might he be lying to her about?
He wanted her to trust him, but something wasn’t right here. All she had until her memory returned were her instincts, and until she knew better, she was going to have to trust them.
*
She dozed for a couple of hours, and when she awoke, Rafe had gone and her mother was sitting in the chair. Noelle smiled as she saw that her daughter was awake, and she stood and came over to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“Where’s Rafe?” Phoebe asked.
“Gone to get a coffee. He’ll be back soon.” Noelle perched on the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“A bit better each time I wake up. The headache’s still there, though.”
“The nurse left you these to take.” Noelle passed her the pot of pills and a bottle of water. “Drink up. You don’t want to get dehydrated.”
Phoebe took the pills and downed a third of the bottle of water, then lay back with a sigh.
“You look pale still.” Noelle stroked her cheek.
“I’m okay. Could have been a lot worse.”
Noelle nodde
d. “Rafe told me that he’s asked you to stay with him rather than come home with me.”
“Mm.”
“Have you decided what you want to do?”
“Not yet. I thought I might make my mind up in the morning.”
“If you want to stay with me for a while, it’s not a reflection on Rafe, or on the wedding, or anything except the fact that you’ve had a serious accident and you need time to recover.”
“I know.” Phoebe smiled as a porter came in wheeling a trolley full of trays of food.
“Dinner,” he said cheerfully, and placed the tray on her table before disappearing.
She investigated the plate of food, discovering it was some kind of lentil stew. “It’s vegetarian.”
“You’re vegetarian,” Noelle said.
“Oh yeah, I forgot.” She started eating the stew, thinking longingly of the beef sandwich Rafe had bought for her.
“I mentioned to him about postponing the wedding,” Noelle said. “He told me he’d asked you not to.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s not really fair. He shouldn’t put pressure on you right now. Stress is the last thing you need.”
“He wasn’t pressurizing me. He just wants to marry me, that’s all.” Phoebe felt a need to defend him. Was that because part of her felt a connection with him? Remembered how close they used to be? Or just because she felt sorry for the guy who’d lost his fiancée?
“He said that Bianca and I had a tiff,” she commented, “about me going to Auckland.”
Noelle nodded slowly.
“Is she really against it?” Phoebe asked.
“She was surprised, that’s all. We’ve spent a long time building the business. But we’ll survive. We have a good deal of stock, and you’ll be coming up at weekends to help out.”
Phoebe still thought that sounded far from ideal. If she’d made the decision to take this job, she was sure she’d want to commit to it a hundred percent. And she’d be newly married to a husband who worked shifts; why would she want to spend her days off travelling and working? Guilt must have forced her into that decision. To have spent years building up the family business and then abandoning it… No wonder Bianca was angry with her. Without Phoebe to put the finishing touches to her gowns, the business would have to rely on selling other brands, which was fine, except that obviously wasn’t why they’d created the shop.
She didn’t say anything, though. She was going to try not to second guess herself. Who knew why she’d made the decisions she had? It was like trying to complete a one-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle with only ten pieces—she had no hope of seeing the whole picture yet.
Finishing the lentil stew, she pushed it away and picked up the dish of fruit and custard. “Do you and Rafe get on okay?” she asked Noelle as she ate a few mouthfuls.
Her mother’s eyebrows rose. “Of course! Why did you ask that?”
“I just wondered whether you liked him. I trust your judgment probably better than my own.”
Noelle smiled and reached out to cup her cheek. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to you. He adores you.”
“And we’ve been okay leading up to the wedding?”
“I think there’s been some tension between you. I just put it down to the stress of organizing everything.”
“I’m looking forward to the wedding though?”
“Of course. You can’t wait.”
“And to my new job?”
“You seemed to be.”
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Phoebe said softly. “But I’ve no way of knowing why. It’s a horrible feeling. I just have to trust that everyone’s being honest with me. It’s easier with you and the others, but with Rafe… It’s hard to trust someone who feels like a total stranger.”
“It must be very difficult. All I can say is that before the accident, you would have trusted Rafe with your life.”
“What sort of relationship do we have?” Phoebe wondered.
“Fiery.” Noelle smiled. “He’s not going to be easy to tame. He’s irreverent and mischievous—I can only imagine what he was like as a boy. I bet he ran rings around his stepmother.”
“Do we argue a lot?”
“Not argue… You’ve always been a good girl, followed the rules, done what’s right. Rafe’s not like that. He parks on double yellow lines. He’s often late. He only thinks of today. I’ve seen him tease you until you’re ready to scream, and then he laughs and kisses you, and you deflate like a soufflé in his arms. You’re good for each other. You bring some order to his life and make him think about his actions. He tries to stop you being so serious.”
“Doesn’t sound like he’s doing very well,” Phoebe commented.
Noelle studied her thoughtfully. “You changed a lot after Dad died. It had a profound effect on you.”
“Rafe said the same. Mum, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how awful it’s been for you.” Her throat tightened.
But Noelle just held her hand and smiled. “It was difficult, but I had my family around me. And we had the shop, and that helped a lot, oddly. It was something to focus on, I suppose.”
The shop had become a character in her own past, Phoebe thought. She would have to go and visit it, and see whether it jogged any memories.
“You seem very fond of it,” she commented.
“We all worked very hard to get it off the ground. You and Bianca were sewing twelve hours a day, seven days a week, to make sure we had enough stock through those first few months. Roberta’s done wonders with the cafe—it’s one of the most popular places in town for women to come and have a gossip, even if they’re already married! And Libby has brought her marketing expertise to us, and helped us with the shows, which have done wonders in getting the word out there. You remember Libby, right?”
“Of course. She was in Elliot’s year at school.”
“She’s dating a friend of his now, Mike, another police officer. The four of them go out a lot.”
“Is Elliot married then?”
“No, but he’s been living with Karen for a few years.”
“It’s so odd,” Phoebe whispered. “Everyone’s moved on, but I feel as if I’ve been standing still. Except I haven’t, of course.”
“It’ll come back to you,” her mother reassured her.
Phoebe wasn’t so sure. But she didn’t say anything.
The nurse came in, checked her blood pressure and oxygen levels, and announced she was doing very well before leaving them to it.
Phoebe smiled as Rafe appeared at the door. “Hey.”
He came in. “The cafe’s closed. Foiled again.”
“I suppose we should think about going now,” Noelle said. “Let you get some rest.”
“I’ve just woken up,” Phoebe pointed out.
“You don’t have to sleep, but you’ve had a lot to deal with today. I’m sure you need time to process it all.”
It was true; she was already tired again. Rafe looked disappointed, but Phoebe nodded her assent that they could go.
“Have a think about what you want to do tomorrow,” Noelle said, “and let us know.”
“I will.”
Noelle kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. It’ll be good to get you home.”
Rafe came up to her bedside and put a hand on hers. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you,” she said, her heart picking up speed at his touch.
He hesitated, then bent and kissed her cheek. Phoebe let him, glad he hadn’t tried to kiss her mouth. A little bit of her wanted him to. But the bigger part knew she wasn’t ready for that yet.
“I’ll be here tomorrow morning, whatever you decide,” he told her. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”
She nodded, and watched the two of them leave the room.
After visiting the bathroom, she slipped off her track pants and got into bed. Turning onto her side, she read her iPad fo
r a while, trying to catch up on the world news over the past eight years. There was too much to read. Wars here, there, and everywhere. Tsunamis and earthquakes, including several in Christchurch that looked pretty bad. The usual scandals and political dramas. In the end, she put the pad down, not sure whether to feel disheartened or enlivened about the fact that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
Her phone beeped, and she picked it up and saw it was a text from Rafe. Sleep well, it said, and it finished with an x for a kiss.
Her lips curving up a little, she suddenly had an idea, and opened up the photos app. Sure enough, there were hundreds of photos, and she caught her breath as she scanned through them, slowly going back in time. There were lots of her family, of Bianca pulling a face, her mother laughing, of Elliot giving her a wry look as she asked him to pose for her. There were a couple of Dominic wearing his dog collar, which made her smile. She had the feeling she’d been very proud of him. Quite a few selfies of her in a vest and shorts after running some kind of marathon, her face red and sweaty, a look of triumph in her eyes. She hardly recognized herself.
Most of them were of Rafe, though. With friends in bars, smiling at the camera, holding up a drink. With two guys who were obviously his brothers, laughing. Some selfies she’d taken of the two of them, several with them kissing. And then one appeared of the two of them in bed, her holding the phone above their heads, laughing. Rafe’s hand was under the covers—she could only imagine what he was doing down there. We have sex most nights, Phoebe, often more than once. In every position and every way possible. He was looking at the camera with a smug smile, as if he knew perfectly well how sexy he was. If she’d had any doubt before, she knew now that it was all true—they really were a couple who’d shared their lives in the most intimate way possible.
Her face burning, she flicked the photo away, and then inhaled sharply. It was a picture of her father, looking exactly how she remembered him, slightly plump, graying hair thinning on top, smiling self-consciously as she asked him to pose for her.
Turning off the phone, she put it on the table, then curled up and finally let herself think about the fact that he’d gone.
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