High Lonesome

by Coverstone, Stacey

Angela raised her gaze.

  “Don’t be ridiculous…” Jack began.

  “I said that’s the end of it.” Scott sidled next to Angela and looked her in the eye. “So, you’re leaving with him? Just like that? No questions asked? No goodbyes?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Jack exploded. His chest puffed like a rooster as he took a step forward. Angela stopped him from advancing by putting her hand on his arm.

  “Would you mind giving us a few minutes? I need to speak to Mr. Landry privately.”

  “What?” Jack’s upper lip curled into a snarl.

  “Please. I owe him a few minutes. Go to the car. I’ll be right out.”

  Jack and Scott stared each other down like bulls in a ring. After a moment’s hesitation, Jack conceded. He jammed the checkbook back into his jacket pocket. “All right, but don’t be long.” He turned and fired a threatening look toward Scott as Buddy held the door open for him. The two of them stepped outside, leaving Scott and Angela alone in the reception area.

  “Why are you going with him?” Scott asked. “You don’t even know this man. What about us? What happened last night? Please talk to me.”

  “Scott, I’m begging you. Don’t make this harder than it already is. He’s my husband. He showed me a wedding photo. And I have a child, a daughter, just as I suspected.” She thrust the photo in front of him. “Look. She’s four years old. I have to go with him. I can’t abandon my little girl. You wouldn’t ask me to do that.”

  “What about all the other flashbacks? The ones that scared you half to death? Is this the man that was yelling at you in those flashes? He’s probably the one who hurt you. I’d bet my life he dumped you in the desert and left you out there to die. I don’t know why, but I don’t trust him. You shouldn’t either.”

  “Stop it, Scott! Maybe everything was just a bad dream. What am I supposed to do? I have to go back to my child. You, of all people should understand that.” She felt her eyes misting.

  When he hugged her, she dropped her head onto his chest. His lips moved through her hair. “I meant what I said at the lake.”

  “I’m sure you did, at the time.”

  “What do you mean, at the time?” He pulled back.

  Her eyes widened. “Never mind. I need to go.” She took several steps toward the door. “Please tell Carmen and Willow goodbye for me. Tell them how special they are, and will always be to me.”

  “Don’t walk away. Come back to the ranch with me and tell them yourself.”

  “I can’t. I don’t have the courage to face them. Jack’s waiting for me. I have to go.”

  “You’re afraid of him. I can see it in your eyes. Don’t go. Stay with me.”

  “No.” She turned so he couldn’t see the tears pooling.

  “What about your clothes? Your things?” he asked.

  “They don’t belong to me. Nothing at the ranch belongs to me.” Angela glanced down at her outfit. “I’ll mail these clothes back as soon as I get home.”

  “Keep ‘em,” Scott replied, his voice flat.

  A deafening silence hung in the air.

  “Well, goodbye, Scott. This is for the best. For both of us. You’ll come to understand that in time.” She made a streak for the door, praying he couldn’t see through her lies.

  “Hold up a minute.” He grabbed her hand— she whirled—and he forced a slip of paper into it. Her skin singed at his touch.

  “If you ever need anything, call me,” he said. “And I mean anything. Anytime. I’ll always be there for you.”

  She stuffed the paper into her back jeans pocket. “Thank you. I’ll never forget you and Willow.” She wiped at her eyes and flung open the door. Rushing into the glare of the sun, the willed away the tears and pain that tore at her heart. Jack leaned against a black BMW with his arms crossed. The car looked familiar, but it didn’t matter just then. She was grateful when Jack opened the door and helped her in. When she slid onto the passenger seat, Jack bolted to the other side, hopped in and stuck the key in the ignition.

  Scott strode outside and joined Buddy on the sidewalk as the beamer pulled out of the parking lot.

  Angela looked out the passenger window and graced him with one last, sweet smile.

  Chapter Twelve

  Despite the many questions Angela had for Jack, they only spoke sporadically on the drive to Arizona. As the miles clicked over on the odometer, she became more anxious about returning to a house she didn’t remember and a man who was a virtual stranger. There had been only one reason she made the hasty decision to go back to Arizona with him, her daughter—the little brunette child she did remember.

  “What kind of getup are you wearing anyway?” he asked suddenly.

  The sound of his voice made her jump. She’d been staring out the window, idly watching the saguaro and sagebrush fly by and consumed with memories of Scott and the moments they’d spent together. She’d also been mulling over the flashbacks, wondering about their true meaning.

  Her heart seized as she remembered the hand raised, the wildness of her assailant’s eyes and the anger in his voice. A tremor ran the length of her body. She looked over to see Jack glaring at her. “Pardon me?”

  “I asked why you’re wearing such a ridiculous outfit.”

  Flinching at his accusatory tone, she answered quietly. “It’s a shirt and jeans. I don’t see what’s so ridiculous about it.”

  “A plaid shirt with pearl snap buttons and cowboy boots? You don’t see what’s ridiculous about it? You look like you’re dressed for Halloween. The old Angie wouldn’t be caught dead in that stupid costume.”

  Dead. The very word haunted her. She’d come so close…

  “You can burn those things when we get home,” he continued, smugly. “You’ve got two closets full of designer clothes. I won’t have my wife dressing like a hick from the sticks.”

  His attitude was not in the least bit attractive. “I won’t burn them,” she replied. “I don’t think you understand what I’ve been through. These clothes represent who I am now. I’m not sure what the old Angela was all about or how the old Angela behaved or dressed, but I’m not that woman anymore.” He’d hit a sore spot and she didn’t care whether he liked the way she responded or not.

  “I know this must be difficult for you,” she continued, “but things are not the same. You’re going to have to get used to the new Angie.” She turned her head back to the window and felt tension melt off her shoulders at standing up to him.

  Jack didn’t utter another word until they reached Tucson. But she sensed anger seething below the surface of his cool façade.

  The moment they pulled up to a magnificent brick house in a posh gated neighborhood, news reporters inundated them. Angela was shocked to see a half dozen media trucks parked on the street and photographers camped out on the lawn.

  “Damn paparazzi,” Jack grumbled as people with microphones clamored around the car and banged on the windows. “Do you remember the house?” he asked through the noise.

  She gawked at the mansion and shook her head.

  “Get away!” Jack yelled through the glass. “Leave us alone!”

  Angela shielded her face. “Why are they here? What do they want?”

  “They want to interview you. You were on all the news stations. I guess you’re a celebrity now.”

  She had no desire to be a celebrity. She didn’t want to be famous for going through the trauma she’d gone through.

  Jack pressed a button on the console and the garage door rose. As he pulled the car in, the reporters swarmed around, shoving their microphones and cameras in Angela’s face as she stepped out of the car. Jack rushed to her side and tossed his arm around her shoulder. The questions flew at her like bullets.

  “Mrs. West, where have you been staying since you disappeared?”

  “How did you end up in New Mexico, Mrs. West?”

  “Angela, they say you have amnesia. Do you remember your husband and child? What do you remember?”

 
; “Were you kidnapped? Do you remember anything about your kidnappers?”

  “Were you harmed? Were you assaulted?”

  “Who is the man who rescued you?”

  “Is it true you don’t remember anything about your life here in Arizona?”

  She covered her face with her hands, and Jack marshaled her through the garage. He fumbled with his keys to get the kitchen door open and then pushed her inside. She snuck a peek out the kitchen window as he turned around and faced the throng of media people and other curious onlookers. When he raised his hands, the noise of the crowd died down.

  His speech was short and to the point. “Mrs. West will not be granting any interviews, now or ever. The matter of her disappearance is for the Arizona State Police to handle. As you can see, she’s home and she’s safe and that’s all I care about. We request you to respect our privacy and let us get on with rebuilding our lives.”

  Jack slammed the back door shut and locked it.

  Angela stood in the kitchen, her feet fastened to the terracotta-tiled floor. “Thank you for handling that. I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “What’s a husband for, if not for protecting his wife?” He watched her behind heavy-lidded eyes. “Do you remember any of this?” He tossed the keys down on the granite countertop and swept his arm around.

  She gazed around the kitchen. The appliances were top of the line stainless steel, and the cabinets were handcrafted cherry wood. There was recessed lighting in the ceiling, a built-in fireplace in the wall, and an expensive looking dinette set. The room was sparkling and neat as a pin, as if no one ever cooked in there. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Well, I’m sure it will all come back to you sooner or later.”

  “I hope. Some things have been coming in bits and pieces, just like the doctor in Ghost Rock said. She told me it’s also possible that all my memories could return at once.”

  Jack had no comment.

  “Where’s Heather?” she asked. Her brusque tone was unintentional, but she was anxious to hold the little girl in her arms. “I’d like to see her now.”

  “I thought you’d want to relax and settle in first.” Jack lifted a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with tap water. He gulped it down and then asked, “You want some?”

  She shook her head. “I just want to see Heather. She’s the only person I remember. Where is she?”

  Jack’s tongue dripped with acid. “I told you she’s with a neighbor.” A muscle ticked along his jaw line. When he stalked out of the room, her mouth gaped. What was that about? I just want to see my child. Why won’t he let me see her right now?

  She trailed him to a room that looked like a den and stood in the middle of it studying the leather furniture, corner bar, hardwood floor, and stone fireplace. Jack ripped a bottle out from under the bar sink against the wall. Ice cubes clinked together as he poured a drink with a shaking hand.

  Stung by his harsh manner, and taken aback over his behavior since leaving Ghost Rock, her head began to ache. With no further warning, a picture flashed before her. She and the man were arguing again. This time she saw her face—and his. She held papers in her hand and waved them in front of his nose. Liquor splashed into a cut glass tumbler. He threw the glass against the wall, shattering it. Angela jumped when the man in the flashback yelled, “You’ll always be my wife! It doesn’t matter what some damn judge says!”

  “What’s the matter?” Jack barked, drawing her back to the here and now.

  She blinked. “Excuse me?” She felt the color drain from her cheeks.

  “You’re holding your head. What’s wrong?” He stepped toward her with a drink in his hand and softened. “You must be exhausted. Why don’t you go to our bedroom and lie down and rest? We can pick up Heather later.”

  Angela slowly backed away from him. The flashback seemed so real, and the mere mention of their bedroom made her ill. Surely he wouldn’t expect intimacy tonight.

  Jack was different from the man who had come to Ghost Rock to bring her home. That Jack was concerned and accommodating. The one in front of her was intimidating and critical. But no matter what he said or did, there was no way he’d bully her into sharing a bed with him.

  “I don’t need to rest,” she said. “I want to see Heather, and I’d like to discuss the sleeping arrangements. Is there a guest room in this house?”

  “Of course there is.” Jack snorted and rolled his eyes. “I assumed you’d want to sleep there tonight.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I hope you can understand…”

  “Don’t mention it.” His sarcasm was blatant and confusing.

  “Since that’s out of the way, can we please get Heather now?”

  He slammed his drink down on a side table, causing her to jump again. Alcohol sloshed out of the tumbler. “Damn it. You’re nagging already. Let me make a phone call.” He strode to the other side of the room, snatched up the phone receiver and punched in some numbers. His voice was low as he spoke to the person on the other end. When he hung up, he said, “We can go over and get her now since it seems you won’t let me rest until we do. She’s right next door. You know we’ll have to wade through the paparazzi again. That’s why I thought we should wait.”

  Angela’s boots clicked across the wood floors as she hurried to the front door. She didn’t care about the paparazzi. If she could get her daughter and leave without Jack following, that’s what she’d do. He frightened her.

  Icy needles pricked her spine when he caught her arm and swung her around. She flinched at his tight grip. Another picture exploded in front of her eyes. In it, he twisted her arm and shoved her to the floor. She saw herself falling and striking her head against the wall. She lay on the floor, moaning from the head injury. Before blacking out, she stared into her attacker’s eyes. It was Jack!

  Time and space blurred. The vision faded. She peered at the arm that still showed the faint signs of a past struggle. Jerking out of his grip, she cried, “Please let go! You’re hurting me.”

  His gray eyes searched her face and he let loose. Softening his tone once again, he said, “I’m sorry, honey. Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

  She rubbed her arm. “Don’t grab me like that.”

  “I said I was sorry. I was just trying to stop you. Reporters are still out on the front lawn. Let’s go out the back door.”

  She glared at him, wrought with confusion over his Jekyll and Hyde personality, but followed him to the back door. He stuck his head out to make sure the coast was clear before they scrambled across the lawn to the neighbor’s home.

  An older woman answered the door and shepherded them in. A tiny brunette girl sat at a table, coloring. She jumped off the chair when she saw Angela.

  “Mommy!” She ran and leaped into Angela’s waiting arms. “Mommy, I missed you.”

  Angela’s fist flew to her mouth. “I missed you, too, sweetheart.” Smothering the child with kisses, she cradled Heather in her arms and smelled her hair. “I’m so happy to be with you again!” Tears sprang to her eyes as she hugged her daughter to her breast.

  I do remember her! I remember my child. This is Heather, my baby.

  “Why are you crying, Mommy?” Heather touched her mother’s hair and her cheek.

  When Angela replied, her voice was tight and choked with emotion. “These are tears of happiness, pumpkin. I’m just so glad to be home.”

  “I’m glad too, Mommy.” Mother and daughter cuddled again, and then Heather squirmed out of her arms and ran to Jack. “Daddy, can we go home now? I want to play with my toys.”

  “Of course, honey. Thanks for watching Heather, Bev. We’ll see you later.”

  Angela smiled at the neighbor she didn’t remember, and she, Jack and Heather snuck back to the house, cunningly avoiding the reporters still camped on the front lawn.

  ****

  Miles away, Scott tucked Willow into bed.

  “Why did Beth leave without telling me goodbye, Daddy?” She
’d refused to remove her pink cowgirl hat, so she sat propped up in bed against her pillows with the hat tilted across one eye. She tugged on an unraveling thread from her pajama top.

  “I explained it to you twice already, Willow. Her husband drove all the way from Arizona to pick her up. They had to get on the road right away because it was going to take them a long time to get back home. They didn’t have time to come out to the ranch. She asked me to tell you goodbye.”

  “It’s not the same,” she pouted.

  “I know.” He plucked the cowgirl hat off her head, hung it over the bedpost and kissed her forehead. As he patted down tiny flyaway hairs caused by static electricity, he said, “I know Beth didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. She would never do that on purpose.”

  “Her name’s not Beth.” Willow’s lip protruded and quivered a bit.

  “You’re right. I’m glad you remembered. It’s Angela. Angela West is her real name.” He felt exhausted. “We’ll talk more about this in the morning, baby. You go to sleep now and have sweet dreams about racing Midnight.”

  Willow gave him a weak smile before laying down and curling her legs up to her chest. “Okay. Daddy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you going to miss Angela?”

  Scott pulled the comforter up to her neck and tucked it around her small shoulders. “Yes, honey. I’m going to miss her. She was a very nice person.”

  “I thought she was going to become my new mother.” Willow’s big round eyes grew wet.

  “Oh, Willow,” Scott drawled. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “I thought she loved us. I thought she was going to stay with us forever.”

  He sighed and hugged her tight. “I think she did love us, the way good friends love each other. But she has her own family. They missed her terribly. They wanted her back home. That’s where she belongs. We did the right thing by taking care of her while she was here. She will never forget us. And we’ll never forget her.”

  “Are you going to marry Joanna now? Is she going to be my mother?” Willow gazed into her father’s eyes with expectant anticipation.